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WHERE SHALL HE FIND HER? 

/ ■ 


FROM THE FRENCH. 


TRANSLATED 

BY 



c NEW YORK : 
CROWEN & CO. 
1867. 

V 


s 



-V 





Entered according to Adi of Congress, in the year 1867, by 
CROWEN & CO., 

In the Clerk’s OfBce of the Distridl Court of the United States for the 
Southern Distridl of New York. 




The New York Printing Company, 
81, 83, and 8s Centre Street, 

New York. 


CONTENTS. • 


Chapter I. 
Chapter II. 
Chapter III 
Chapter IV. 
Chapter V. 
Chapter VI. 


PAGH 

9 

27 

45 

100 

136 

156 




I 


4 



WHERE SHALL HE FIND HER? 


CHAPTER I. 

During my college life, some thirty years ago, 
I was in the habit of spending part of my vaca- 
tion with an uncle on my mother’s side, who 
lived in a pretty house at Upper Provence, some 
leagues from the frontier of Piedmont. This 
uncle was an old monk, petrified with science, 
and it was rumored that he would have been one 
of the glories of the savant congregation of 
St. Maur, had not the Revolution driven him 
from his convent ere he had completed his novi- 
tiate. 

Dom G^rusac, as he was still called in the 
family, was but twenty-five* years of age when 
the promulgation of a decree broke his religious 


lO Where shall He find Herf 

vows. . He did not, however, profit by the benefit 
of this law to enter into things temporal, nor did 
he return to his. monastic life ; neither did he, 
like the greater part of the members of his order, 
renew, in some convent of Italy or Spain, the 
garb of St. Benoit ; but when the revolutionary 
storm somewhat abated its fury, he gathered the 
remains of his paternal inheritance, and took 
refuge in a sequestered nook, which he named 
St. Pierre de Corbie, in memory of the celebrated 
house where he had passed his first student 
years. This little domain was half hidden in a 
recess of the Alps, on the southerly slope of that 
chain of mountains, which gradually descends 
to the mouth of the Var. It was a site both 
wild and charming. 

The house, built on a slight elevation, was 
overtopped by immense rocky cones, on the de- 
clivity of which grew interlaced clumps of oak, 
and a profusion of flowering shrubs. One ar- 
rived there by a winding path, bordered by Italiaij 
willows, and tall poplar trees, which formed on 
either side a curtain of foliage, through which 


Where shall He find Herf ii 

might be seen fields, olive orchards, and vine- 
yards, which resembled long green ribbons of 
divers shades unrolled upon the chalky par- 
terre. 

As usual, the diligence left me a good mile 
from St. Pierre, and I took a cross-road where 
never coachman nor wagoner had ventured to 
drive. With a light heart I advanced on this 
seldom frequented road, charmed to proceed thus 
alone ; my luggage tied in a handkerchief, and 
my walking-stick in my hand, as if I were about 
to make the tour of France. On approaching 
the house I quickened my pace, and when at 
last I entered the lane I paused a moment to 
look on every side with inexpressible joy at 
recognizing each ledge of rocks, and each little 
rivulet lost in the turf All was unchanged, 
still the same peaceful, charming pidlure. Just 
beyond, there stood the house with its white 
front and red roof, from which arose and 
curled a long line of smoke ; below, the garden 
still green and flowering as in ’the spring-time ; 
around it the orchard with its apple-trees, all 


12 Where shall He find Herf 

red, and its plum-trees, all purple, and bent 
beneath the weight of ripe fruits ; added to this 
arose the beautiful oak-clad mountains and rich 
pastures, from which the bleating of flocks was 
heard. 

My good old uncle came to meet me with 
open arms, informing himself above all if I 
had come loaded with university laurels, and not 
failing to compliment me in Latin when I had 
announced my success. Then, remarking that I 
seemed tired and thirsty, he ushered me into 
the little front parlor ; calling his old servant 
Marian that she might prepare me a glass of 
wine sucree, and relieve me of my luggage. 

The impression which the sight of this ser- 
vant produced on me disagreeably counteracted 
the delight I had felt on finding myself in this 
retreat. She was perhaps the ugliest creature I 
had ever beheld ; her countenance had a crabbed 
and sadly wrinkled appearance, which created in* 
me an invincible feeling of aversion. When I 
was a lad, eight or ten years of age, I dared not 
look in her face, and later in life I never saw her 


13 


Where shall He find Her? 

without being reminded of the personages in the 
legend of the infernal regions. She seemed to me 
like a vampire or ghoul, with her long rigid body, 
her bony hands, and crooked eyes, and the innu- 
merable wrinkles which furrowed her forehead. 
Otherwise she was an ordinary servant, such as 
one may see almost everywhere ; adlive, precise, 
submissive, and silent almost to taciturnity. 

The interior of his house my uncle had ar- 
ranged with that richerch^ simplicity and com- 
modious luxury peculiar to ancient religious 
houses. All around him, and everything, with 
the exception of old Marian, had a cheerful and 
agreeable aspedl. The furniture of the room, 
which he most frequently occupied, was of a 
modest elegance, the refinements of which one 
discovered little by little. Everything was cal- 
culated for a life peaceful, studious, and contem- 
plative. Fauteuils, soft and deep, glided quietly 
• on their rollers, and almost placed themselves 
around the fireplace, wherein from the month 
of September a small bright fire was invariably 
lighted ; Japan vases filled with flowers sur- 


14 


Where shall He find Herf 


mounted the corner-stands, while four large re- 
presentations on canvas, of historical subjects, 
framed with gray painted wood, hung on the 
walls. One large door was constantly left open, 
and showed a second apartment in which the 
wainscoting was tapestried entirely with biblio- 
graphical pidlures, treasures amassed by my 
uncle. There also figured in fine order the bat- 
tles of Latin authors, the learned body of 
the monks of St. Maur, and a host of less illus- 
trious writers, who applied themselves to the 
study of our national chronicles. Some modern 
poets seemed to have lost themselves amid 
these large folios, and their elegant bindings 
shone here and there on the dusty shelves. Some 
very curious old stamps, which my uncle prized 
very highly, and of which he had a large collec- 
tion, ornamented the dining-room, which pre- 
ceded the little saloon. On the modest side- 
board of nut-wood stood several pieces of old • 
silver of rare and exquisite workmanship, but all 
the rarities took much less of my attention than 
did a very mediocre painting which Dom Geru- 


Where shall He find Her? 


15 


sac had thought proper to place above the man- 
tel-mirror. It was a pastel, rather faded by 
time, whose oval frame was broken and defaced 
in many places. It represented a woman of the 
most dazzling beauty, in all the splendor of her 
youth ; her dress was something in the style of 
a shepherdess of Watteau. A long boddice-waist, 
ornamented with shells of rose-colored ribbon, 
sustained her delicate and rounded waist, and in 
lieu of bracelets, she wore bands of wide black 
velvet, knotted around her beautiful arms, other- 
wise left bare to the elbow ; her hair was tied 
with pale blue ribbons in a simple manner, while 
her face wore a supremely attradlive expression ; 
her deep, blue, and slightly drooping eyes were 
full of intensity and fervor'- her lips slightly 
parted with a vague smile, showing teeth of the 
purest enamel, resembling a pomegranate blos- 
som, in whose calyx jasmines had fallen. 

My chair at table was opposite, and facing 
the fireplace where I could not raise my eyes 
without beholding this fascinating creature, 
who, on her part, seemed to look down at 


1 6 Where shall He find Her? 

me, smiling on me with a tender languor, 
but upon lowering my eyes they invariably 
encountered the dry, repulsive face of Marian, 
who, standing behind my uncle’s chair, silently 
changed the plates, and served us water ; this 
contrast produced a peculiar impression upon 
me, and augmented, if possible, the antipathy 
which I felt to the old servant. Perhaps I 
should have become accustomed to her dark 
ugliness, had I not so constantly before me this 
ideal, this fresh and radiant beauty. As for my 
uncle he had for certain things the simplicity of 
a saint ; and at the same time the indifference 
of a savant. I am confident that he never had 
looked at Marian’s face, for one day I ventured 
to ask him if he remembered ever having seen 
her less dried and wrinkled. “ Ma foi, no ; do 
you think she is old } why, she must be as old 
as myself, nearly sixty ! ” And, as I did not reply, 
he added, “ Perhaps she is even younger ; there 
are .persons who are old before their time ; dur- 
ing the ten years that she has been in my ser- 
vice her face has always appeared the same to 


Where shall He find Herf 17 

me, and with this exception she is as strong and 
active as a young girl.” 

Dom Gerusac lived altogether retired from the 
world ; he corresponded only with the learned 
societies to whom he addressed his labors, and 
only received as visitors a few members of his 
family who came long distances to see him. 
One good old priest, named Abb^ Lambert, was 
the only person that one met often on the road 
to St. Pierre. Once a week during vacation I 
saw him come, his poor cassock tucked in his 
pocket, his breviary under his arm, and his cane 
in his hand. He was the curate of the parish of 
Malepire, on the confines of which was situated 
my uncle’s little domain, and the poor curate 
was certainly the poorest curate in P'rance ; his 
flock was scattered over a vast area, covered 
with woods, divided by deep valleys, and tra- 
versed by torrents which were often 'impassable. 
The village of Malepite, situated nearly in the 
heart of the parish, had hardly one hundred in- 
habitants ; but to judge from its surrounding 

walls, and from the old and tumble-down houses, 
2 


1 8 Where shall He fi^id Herf 

the number of its inhabitants must once have 
been much greater. The church, whose Gothic 
tower still overlooked the surroundings, was a 
very good-sized edifice, in which one might dis- 
cover the traces of a former splendor. Magni- 
ficent windows decorated the sandluary, while 
mutilated sculpture and broken frames indicated 
the places once occupied hy masterpieces of art. 
The village of Malepire was situated about a 
mile distant from St. Pierre, on the other side 
of a mountain, which it was necessary to climb 
every Sunday in order to attend mass ; for Dom 
Gerusac did not negledt this duty, though he 
had long since renounced the practices of a reli- 
gious life. 

By a singular phenomena, common, however, 
in alpine countries, we enjoyed an equable 
and mild temperature on the southerly side of 
the mountain, while on the elevated points fre- 
quent storms occurred, arid in the rest of the 
parish extreme cold was felt. Therefore, we 
invariably took with us extra clothing, before 
ascending these elevated plateaux. Marian went 


Where shall He find Herf 19 

ahead, carrying our cloaks, and awaited us at 
the mouth of a gorge which cut the summit of 
the mountain, and where a current of frosty 
air was generally to be felt. The old servant 
had also a basket on her arm, a heavy bag on 
her shoulder ; these contained our breakfast and 
my uncle’s alms, which she persisted in carrying 
thus, instead of placing them in the saddlebags 
on the docile mule which my uncle rode. It 
was customary with us to halt at the gorge 
which I have just mentioned, which was called 
Malepire’s Pass. It had a sombre and wild 
aspedl, but was nevertheless to me singularly 
pleasing. The rock, cut by some convulsion of 
the antediluvian period, presented on either 
side walls almost perpendicular, while its double 
crest, deeply niched, sketched itself in black 
festoons against the pale blue sky. The bottom 
of this deep cleft was entirely covered with a 
multitude of plants and shrubs, whose inextri- 
cable interlacings hid still deeper abysses below. 
The road lay between these rocks, and the mass 
of verdure from beneath which the rushing of 


20 Where shall He fi^id Herf 

the rapid waters of a torrent could be heard. 
Such a road, if it may be so called, was alto- 
gether impra6licable in winter, when the snow 
and glaciers covered the irregularities of the 
locality, but in summer one might walk in safety 
in the shade upon a carpet of moss and turf, and 
inhale the fresh breezes and fragrance which 
rose from the depths of verdure that bordered 
the pass. An immense mass of rocks barred 
the entrance to this defile, and advanced like a 
promontory, forming the northern slope of the 
mountain. From the summit of this resting- 
place, where the barren sides sloped almost per- 
pendicularly down to the village, might be seen 
the fortification-walls and the ruined towers of 
the Chateau de Malepire. When we arrived at 
the entrance of the gorge, Marian, who awaited 
us, seated at the foot of the rocks, came to us 
to aid Dom Gerusac in dismounting, after which 
she unfolded our cloaks, and silently put them on 
our shoulders, and went on her way, leading the 
mule by the bridle. 

“Verily, that girl has the legs of an ostrich. 


Where shall He find Herl 2i 

who goes, they say, at the rate of seven miles an 
hour,” cried my good uncle, following her with 
his eyes ; “ see, she is already out of sight.” “ So 
much the better,’* said I, mentally ; for Marian’s 
face spoiled the face of the country for me. My 
imagination revolted at the sight of this shep- 
herdess of the Alps in Sunday toilette, with her 
great shoes, her frightful black straw hat raised 
on her old wig, and her dishabille of muslin, the 
sleeves of which exposed her long, bony arms. 
When she had disappeared I gave a sigh of 
relief, and followed the road contented ; my 
imagination became awakened in the midst of 
the agreeable solitude, and I contemplated with 
a vague enthusiasm the tableau which offered 
itself to my gaze as I reached the extremity of 
the gorge. I was opposite the rock on the 
summit of which rose the lordly chateau, while 
at the foot of this gigantic block I perceived the 
little church, and the village with its houses irre- 
gularly grouped around it ; before it was a large 
square shaded by two elms whose trunks were so 
closely joined as to form but one tree, the largest 


22 


Where shall He find Herf 


and finest to be seen in the whole surrounding 
country. Just beyond the hamlet opened a wide 
perspedlive where the eye could seize upon no 
one objedl ; one might have thought in contem- 
plating it that in some convulsion of nature 
these overthrown masses had, in moving, been 
suddenly solidified, and thus formed the immov- 
able waves of an ocean of mountains. The ruins 
which surrounded this severe landscape presented 
an imposing scene in which one might again find 
the architedlure of several different epochs. Dom 
Gerusac had not failed, in passing, to explain to 
me the charadler of these ruins. According to 
his account the principal tower had witnessed 
the encampment on this plain of the Roman 
legions ; the outer wall, which surrounded the 
whole, dated from feudal times, whilst the fagade 
had on either side two pavilions of altogether 
modern date ; however, all these constru6lions, 
without either roofs or doors, had an air of mag- 
nificent dilapidation. Sometimes I questioned 
my uncle of the ancient lords of Malepire, but the 
worthy man had not concerned himself with local 


Where shall He find Herf 23 

tradition, and he invariably answered, shaking 
his head : 

“It is for futurity to unravel the history of 
these great families still ; the chronicles are to be 
had. There are some very valuable and precious 
in the charter of the church of Saint Maur, which 
are in my possession ; lately I happened to cast 
my eyes on a title which furnishes incontestable 
proof that Ferraud, seventh baron of Malepire, 
was one of the sixteen provincial lords who 
travelled to the Holy Land with Godefroy de 
Bouillion, and some day I shall undertake an 
essay on the subjedl ; and I promise you it will 
be read.” 

Whilst awaiting the history of this Ferraud la 
Croix, I tried to make Marian relate me the more 
recent history of the country. One day, as we 
were going up to Malepire, I joined her at the 
entrance of the gorge, and, instead of avoiding 
her as usual, I resolutely commenced a conver- 
sation. 

“This is a beautiful morning,” said I, ap- 
proaching her ; “ I feel as light as a deer, and 


24 Where shall He find Herf 

have walked so f^st without perceiving it that I 
have left my uncle far behind. Permit me to seat 
myself beside you, my dear Marian, while we 
await him. Do you not begin to find this road 
a little long and difficult for your poor limbs } ” 

“ No, sir,” replied she, in that brief and quer- 
ulous tone peculiar to old women of a sour 
temper. 

But I was not to be discouraged, and continued : 

“ Before the Revolution that must have been a 
fine chateau above there,” looking at the ruins. 
“ Did you see it at that time, Marian, when it 
was inhabited by its ancient lords ? ” As she 
made no reply whatever, I politely added : “You 
must have been very young at that time.” 

“ So young ’ that I recolledl nothing at all of 
it,” exclaimed she, in a lofty tone ; and, picking 
up the wallet and basket, she went to meet my 
uncle. 

This response seemed a strange coquetry 
from the mouth of Marian. Evidently, she had 
at least attained the age of discretion when the 
ancient regime finished. I questioned, also, the 


Where shall He find Herf 25 

Abbe Lambert, but not more satisfa6lorily. 
This worthy man had served the curacy only 
since the restoration of the Church ; nor were 
the peasants more au fait as to local tradition. 
They cared very little what had happened hith- 
erto ; and the young generation knew not whe- 
ther thirty years or thirty centuries had passed 
since the demolition of the Chateau de Malepire. 
One day, however, when I stopped under the 
shade at the door of the church, a little peasant 
said to me, whilst pointing up to the tree, with 
an air of wisdom : 

“ Don’t you think, sir, that these are -two 
beautiful trees, quite straight and full of leaves } 
There are at least fifty magpies’ nests in the 
highest branches. I don’t believe there are any 
trees like them in all Provence.” 

“ They do not appear to be very old,” said I, 
observing the vigorous branches, whose foliage 
formed an impenetrable dome of verdure. 

“ Well, who knows,” replied the little peasant, 
'^who knows how many years they have been 
planted and baptized ? ” 


26 Where shall He find Herf 

Baptized ! ” cried I. 

“Yes, sir; this one is called M. le Marquis, 
and that M. le Baron.” 

“ And why is that, my boy ? ” 

“ Why ! ” exclaimed the boy. “ Ah ! that I 
cannot tell you,” said he, shrugging his shoul-^ 
ders. “ Upon my word I never heard. It hap- 
pened so long ago that no one knows anything 
about it.” 


Where shall He find Herf 


27 


CHAPTER 11. 

I HAVE said that there was, in my uncle’s dining- 
room, a pastel which singularly captivated my 
attention ; this picture figured above an antique 
mirror, where one saw one’s self refle6led fright- 
fully green ; there were on the mantel, besides 
two little Sevres cups embellished with designs 
and garlands in miniature, two bijoux, which 
Marian filled with allumettes. I do not know 
why I imagined that the mirror, the pastel, and 
the cups had always been together in the same 
manner as I now saw them ; that the original of 
the portrait had beheld herself in the greenish 
mirror, and that her pure lips had more than 
once touched the border of the porcelain cups. 
This idea being formed in my mind, I was tor- 
mented with a vehement curiosity, and formed a 
host of conjedlures which were very romantic. 
Little by little a strange, unaccountable senti- 


28 


Where shall He find Herf 


merit was born of this preoccupation ; from look- 
ing at this portrait, whose intense regard seemed 
fixed on me, I became desperately in love with 
it. I felt, on gazing at it, the same transports 
which the presence of a living mistress would 
have occasioned. All the articles which deco- 
rated the chimney-piece had become for rfie mys- 
terious and sacred relics. In the ingenuity of 
my love, I rendered them a sort of worship. I 
had emptied them of Marian’s allumettes, and 
every day put in their stead the most beautiful 
flowers that I could find in the garden. Whilst 
Dom Gerusac thought me absorbed in his folios 
I dreamt leaning on my elbows, and the inten- 
sity of my passion went so far as to make a poet 
of me. I improvised for this beauty, who no 
longer existed but in painting. When this folly 
took possession of me I was but seventeen, and 
had just finished my rhetoric. In the midst of 
this internal trouble I gained sufficient control 
over myself to conceal the continual emotions 
of the bizarre and extravagant love to which I was 
a prey. The mere idea that it should be sus- 


Where shall He find Herf 29 

peeled caused in me a mental shame. My cu- 
riosity had become an insupportable torment of 
mind. I formed chimerical suppositions and 
sought without ceasing the origin and name of 
this fatal beauty, whose portrait had perhaps 
been painted an hundred years ago. Nothing 
would have been more simple than to enlighten 
myself. I had but to question my uncle ; but I 
was so troubled at the bare idea of this explica- 
tion, that I trembled' to approach the subject, 
lest I should, by some involuntary sign, betray 
what was passing in my heart. . . . One 

day, however, while we were at table, I took 
courage, and cried, whilst feigning laughter, “I 
say, my dear uncle, you have there a mirror 
which gives one a face the color of green seal- 
ing-wax.” 

“It is a pretty piece of furniture, neverthe- 
less,” replied Dorn Gerusac : “ the frame is of 
ebony, encrusted with silver and mother-of-pearl ; 
unfortunately the top has been broken. I sup- 
pose it was the armorial with support and crest. 
I found that at D , in the shop of an old 


30 


Where shall He fi^td Herf 


Jew ; the pastel and the cups also pell-mell with 
old rubbish.” 

My heart throbbed ; I resumed, in a stifled 
voice, “ These articles probably came from some 
noble house pillaged during the Revolution.” 

“Very probably,” replied my uncle. “But I 
see no clue by which I can recognize the pos- 
sessors of the old-fashioned things, as you 
young people call all that is not of modern 
date.” 

Dom G^rusac had turned round to inspedl the 
upper part of the chimney-piece ; and he added, 
whilst pointing to the portrait, “Do you not 
think, Frederic, that this frame is also charm- 
ing.?” 

“ The portrait .? oh, yes ! ” cried I. 

“ Why, no,” replied Dom G6rusac : “ that is 
faded, -and of a detestable design ; but the frame 
is a veritable chef-d' oeuvre. Some day I will 
have it restored ; and the portrait I will give to 
Marian, that she may hang it in her chamber 
beside the Wandering Jew.” 

These words made me shudder ; I became 


Where shall He find Herf 


31 


quite pale, but dared not ask of my uncle the 
objedl of my secret adoration. I resigned my- 
self to the idea of seeing it pass into Marian’s 
hands, thinking that it would not be impossible 
to buy it of her. 

Meanwhile my uncle received a letter which 
filled him with joy, and upset his household, 
usually so regular and tranquil. A great per- 
son, the Marquis of Champaubert, ambassador 
to a foreign court, announced to Dom G6rusac 
that, as he intended passing by Toulon, he 
should go out of his way for the purpose of pay- 
ing him a visit, and renewing their former 
friendship. My uncle immediately assembled 
his privy council, that is to say, he called Ma- 
rian, and told her the contents of the letter 
which he had just received. 

“ Set every one to work,” said he, “ tell Babe- 
lou to prepare the blue chamber, and do you at- 
tend to the culinary department. M. de Cham- 
paubert will be here to-morrow ; let everything be 
in readiness early, but especially let every atten- 
tion be paid to the dinner. There are dishes in 


32 


Where shall He find Herf 


which you excel, pigeon-pate, for instance — try to 
serve us one ; give us. also eggs a la neige, a 
roast capon ; in fine, anything better that you 
can think of.” “ I will do my best,” replied 
Marian briefly ; and, without waiting further 
orders, she returned to her kitchen. 

“ This good Maximian, how happy I shall be 
to see him again ! ” said Dom G6rusac to me ; “ he 
is my oldest friend ; we commenced our studies 
together among the orators. But I was destined 
for St. Maur ; and, two years after, I went to La 
Chaise Dieu. Champaubert obtained permission 
to come here with me ; but a religious life was 
not very attradlive to him. He was a good scho- 
lar and applied himself to the study of the dead 
languages. His family wished him to enter the 
church ; but the death of his elder brother having 
made him the only son, he re-entered the world 
before having left. I was about commencing 
my novitiate when he left it. It was for the 
feast of All Saints. It seems to me that I can see 
him now in his blue coat and his hat a TAmdri- 
caine, ready to mount his horse and waving us 


Where shall He find Her I 33 

his adieux. How graceful he was ! what an ele- 
gant cavalier ! ” 

“ Was it long ago ? ” asked I, indifferently. 

“ Let me see,” musingly replied my uncle, “ it 
was in ’87. The second Easter feast. It was, 
consequently, thirty-five years ago. Since that 
time I have not seen Champaubert, nor have I 
until now received any news of him except 
through the public papers. At the commence- 
ment of the Revolution he emigrated, nor did he 
return until after peace was restored. When 
his talents and fidelity had their reward, the 
King overwhelmed him with gifts and honors. 
He is a peer and ambassador of France; he has 
innumerable titles and dignities : may God keep 
him in this good fortune ; he is worthy of it.” 

The idea of seeing, near by, so important a 
personage, and being presented to him, kept me 
awake all night ; and, as soon as it was morning, 
I took up my post of observation on the terrace, 
much puzzled to know how his excellency’s car- 
riage could possibly pass over the innumerable 
ruts and quagmires with which the intervening 
3 


34 


Where shall He find Her? 


road abounded. The reception which was pre- 
paring for him caused me no little anxiety. It 
appeared to me altogether unworthy so distin- 
guished a guest, and I figured to myself the ap- 
pearance our old servant would make in the midst 
of the numerous train which I supposed would 
attend the Marquis. I thought how intrepidly 
she would march into the dining-room with her 
napkin over her arm, and that her long, bony 
hand would serve water to our illustrious guest. 

In the afternoon, Babelou, the little , girl who 
assisted in the kitchen, appeared, at the entrance 
to the terrace, and called out to me, in a most 
unmusical voice, “Come Mr. Frederic ; the gen- 
tleman has come ; he is in the lane.” 

“ And his carriage, which way has that gone V 
said I, extremely astonished : “it may have been 
upset in some ravine.” 

“ His carriage !” exclaimed Babelou with a loud 
burst of laughter : “ why it is like your uncle’s, 
and can pass easily over any road where a don- 
key can put his four feet !” In short the ambas- 
sador arrived in a little country cart which very 


35 


Where shall He find Her? 

much resembled a wheelbarrow, with all his suit 
reduced to a single peasant who carried his valise, 
and at the same time drove the donkey with the 
twig of a tree. The marquis alighted nimbly, 
and threw himself on my uncle's neck, who wept 
with joy. The worthy man said, as he pressed his 
hand, “ Ah ! I did not expecl such a visit ; what 
happiness for me, my lord ! ” 

“ Why call me my lord," interrupted the Mar- 
quis, tucking him under his arm, “ call me Maxi- 
mian as of old ; do you know, my dear Thomas, I 
recognized you immediately } ” 

“ The case with myself,” replied my uncle, 
“ really you have changed’but little.” 

“ Eh, eh ! nevertheless, many snows have fallen 
since we parted,” sighed the Marquis, passing his 
hand through his grayish hair. 

Had your letter reached me one day sooner I 

should have gone to C to meet you,” replied 

my uncle ; “ you must have had no little diffi- 
culty in getting here.” 

“Not the slightest,” replied his excellency: “I 
merely dismissed my carriage, and obtained, at 


36 


Where shall He find Her I 


the nearest hamlet, a donkey-cart, and a peasant 
to condudl me here.” 

“But who told you the diredl road again 
asked my uncle. 

“ No one ; I already knew the country,” replied 
M. de Champaubert, glancing at the valley and 
the mountains ; “ I have been this way before.” 

“After you left La Chaise Dieu V 

“Nearly two years after.” 

“ Ah ! ” cried Dom Gerusac, “ how happens it 
that I knew nothing of it } ” . 

The Marquis smiled a melancholy smile, and 
answered in a lower voice, “You were then at 
St. Corbie about to take your vows ; there were 
events of which I could not write you.” 

“Is it possible?” murmured my uncle frankly. 

I stood aside surprised and confounded, unable 
to persuade myself that I had before me a repre- 
sentative of the King of France, and who had 
often conversed with crowned heads. At the first 
glance one might have taken him for a country 
gentleman : his blue coat was crossed over his 
chest, and prevented the least end of ribbon 


Where shall He fi^id Herf 


37 


whatever from being seen ; his whole toilet was 
perfe6l simplicity ; his manners were easy and 
natural, his face expressive of amiability, mingled 
with ingenuity. At the same time he had, per- 
haps without being aware of it, a certain com- 
manding air in the movement of his head, and 
occasionally a haughtiness, a singular assurance, 
shone in his glance ; his figure was fine ; and, 
strange to say, he appeared very much younger 
than my uncle, whose life had been passed in the 
tranquil labors of science, and had the attraits 
of an old man, whilst the man of the world, who 
had suffered the rude shock of his passions and 
followed a checkered career, still walked with a 
firm and elastic step. 

Dom Gerusac called and presented me : it was 
but the affair of a moment ; then the two friends, 
arm-in-arm, entered the house. The Marquis 
inclined toward the garden ; but my uncle said, 
drawing him back, “It is too warm out there ; 
let us rather go to my library.” 

“ With all my heart,” replied he, gayly. “ There 
is your world, your society, your family ; you will 


38 Where shall He find Herf 

introduce me to the illustrious company of 
authors, ancient and modern, but first, I pray 
you, give me something to drink, as I am very 
thirsty.” 

“ Marian ! ” cried my uncle, going towards the 
kitchen door. 

I thought she was going to make her appear- 
ance, and awaited the comic effedl which she 
should produce on the Marquis. Fortunately 
she did not appear, but Babelou came, laden with 
an immense salver, on which there was a bottle 
of old wine, some sugar, a basket of magnificent 
fruit, and a plate of little, downy, yellow peaches. 

“ This is perfedl,” said De Champaubert, him- 
self aiding Babelou to place the salver on the 
table already encumbered with manuscripts and 
large volumes. “ This little girl has divined that 
I like these yellow peaches of the country, a tart 
little fruit which has not its equal in the whole 
country, I can tell you.” 

“I believe you,” replied my uncle, smiling. 

It is long since this wild fruit has been found 
anywhere save in our poor mountains.” 


Where shall He find Herf 


39 


“ Draw near, my old comrade,” replied the 
Marquis, motioning Dom G^rusac to a seat beside 
himself: “we have many things to tell each 
other.” 

My uncle seated himself, and after asking his 
orders in a low tone, I retired discreetly, closing 
the door behind me. 

A little before tbe dinner-hour, Babelou came to 
seek me in the dining-room. “ Good gracious, Mr. 
Frederic! what shall we do .? ” said she wildly: 
“ Marian has taken so much trouble since yester- 
day, that now she is sick, and is going to bed.” • 

I confess that this news was, to me, rather 
satisfadlory than otherwise. 

“ Well, you will do in her stead,” was my reply 
to the little girl. “ Run and put on your best 
dress with a white apron, and tell Marian to stay 
quietly in her bed. I will go and tell my 
uncle.” 

The two fronds had left the library, and 
passed into the garden, and my uncle was walk- 
ing, proudly showing his flowers and vegetables 
to the Marquis. The latter seemed to be charmed 


40 


Where shall He find Herf 


with all he saw, and, with chara6leristic good- 
nature, went in raptures over a carnation pink 
or before a colossal cabbage, and plucked the 
grapes from the vine in regular schoolboy 
fashion. I announced to my uncle the vexatious 
incident which had so unexpedfedly occurred in 
the house. The excellent man, wishing to go 
immediately and see how Marian was, I remained 
alone with the Marquis, who having again made 
the tour of the garden, said familiarly to me : 

“ My young friend, I think it would be as well 
for us to go and see if dinner is served.” 

The dining-room had a long window which 
opened on the garden. I went ahead and opened 
the casement, and stood aside to let the Marquis 
pass ; the curtains were drawn, and a bright sun- 
light illuminated every corner of the apartment, 
and the gilding of the old frames shone resplen- 
dency in the rays of the setting sun. The 
Marquis entered, took several steps, and looked 
about him, and stopped suddenly before the 
mantel-piece, his eyes fixed on the pastel ; then 
he turned suddenly to me and said : 


Where shall He find Her? 4 1 

“ Do you know where that portrait came 
from?” 

I blushed to my very ears, and stammered : 

“ Ye — yes, my lord : my uncle bought it of an 
old Jew in D 

“ With the mirror and these little cups ? ” 
replied the Marquis. 

I think so, my lord.” 

At this moment Dom Gerusac entered. 

“ My dear Maximian,” said he, “ excuse me, I 
am afraid we shall not be very well attended at 
table, as the greater part of my household are 
absent ; in other words, my old servant has fallen 
ill.” 

“ Well, we will wait on ourselves,” replied De 
Champaubert, placing himself at the table ; “ such 
a thing has happened me more than once during 
the emigration.” 

Happily Marian had been able to remain in the 
kitchen all day and dire6l her little aide-de-camp, 
Babelou. The table was set perfedtly, and the 
dinner excellent ; furthermore, I had disinterred 
two or three bottles of old wine from the cellar, 


42 


Where shall He find Herf 


which were worthy to figure at a king’s table. 
The Marquis ate abstemiously and quickly, sus- 
taining the conversation, whilst my uncle dined 
in his usual calm way and solid appetite, stimu- 
lated by the joy he felt at having opposite him 
such a guest. I myself ate nothing. The ques- 
tions which the marquis had asked convinced me 
that he recognized that adorable face before 
which I had been six weeks in ecstasies ; that 
he knew who this woman was, whose name I had 
despaired ever of hearing ; that he could at last 
tell me the things which of all the world I most 
desired to know : but how dare I interrogate him 
in my turn ? how even approach such a subjedl 
of conversation ? 

All at once, during dessert, in the interval of a 
conversation on politics and college reminis- 
cences, my uncle thought proper to say to the 
Marquis : 

“ State affairs have so occupied and absorbed 
your whole existence that you have had no time 
to think of marriage.” 

“ On the contrary,” replied the Marquis, rais- 


Where shall He find Herf 43 

ing his eyes to the pastel, “I was to have 
espoused that beautiful person whose portrait 
you have before you.” 

“ What ! what ! — this anonymous portrait ? ” 
cried Dom Gerusac. 

“ It is a strange coincidence indeed,” continued 
M. de Champaubert. “ I little expe6led to see 
again, to-day, the beautiful objedl of my first 
love.” 

“ You are going to relate me this story ; then 
we shall be in the humor to recall our souvs 7 tirs 
of youth,” said my uncle. “ I am delighted that 
you have met that again.” 

The Marquis smiled bitterly. “ To-day,” said 
he, “ I can speak tranquilly of it, and since it is 
your desire I will relate that epoch of my life. I 
will relate it, not for your edification, my sage 
friend, but for the instrudlion of this youth, who 
contemplates my fianch with an air of agitation, 
as though those basilisk eyes had already in- 
stilled their poison to the very depths of his 
soul.” 

At this apostrophe I lost countenance entirely. 


44 Where shall He find Herf 

It seemed to me that the Marquis was reading 
the inmost recesses of my heart, and a slight 
convulsive cough was my only response. My un- 
cle stared at me with his large eyes, and emptied 
his wineglass at a single draught, and leaned his 
two hands on the table. This, with him, was a 
sign of profound attention. 

“ Have coffee served, and send Babelou away,” 
said the Marquis. “ We will remain here. To 
relate the story, I must sit opposite this por- 
trait.” 


Where shall He find Herf 


45 


CHAPTER III. 

Daylight waned. I lighted the candles in the 
brackets each side of the mantel-mirror, which 
brought out distindlly every feature of the beau- 
tiful pastel which showed itself smilingly through 
the opaque glass, like a blonde head of Greuze 
behind the half-open curtain of a window. 

The Marquis for a moment contemplated the 
portrait with a fixed eye ; then, as if he divined 
my violent and secret curiosity, said, addressing 
^himself to me : 

“ This portrait is that of Marie de Malepire, 
only daughter of the Baron de Malepire.” 

“ Of the last lord V cried I ; “and she lived in 
the chateau up there on the mountain V 

“Yes, my young friend, and there passed all 
the events which I am about to relate to you,” 
replied the Marquis. And after a silence he 
continued, turning to Dom G^rusac : 


46 


Where shall He fi7td Herf 


“ Do you remember, my dear Thomas, a letter 
in which I announced to you that I was about 
leaving Paris to travel in the south of France ?” 

Yes, certainly, I recolledl it perfedlly well : it 
was the last letter you wrote me, and be it said» 
without reproach, it was dated before the Revo- 
lution ; if I am not 'mistaken, it was of the month 
of August, 1789.” 

“ What an incomparable man you are for chro- 
nology ! ” cried M. de Champaubert. In short, 
I arrived in these mountains some time after the 
famous night of the 4th of August. But first let 
me explain to you why I undertook this journey, 
and how the Champauberts of an ancient family 
in Normandy were in relations with the Male- 
pires of Provence. It is more than a hundred 
years since the time of the war with Piedmont ; 
Marechal Tesse’s army occupied this frontier ; 
my great-grandfather, Guillaume de Champau- 
bert, served in the regiment of Auvergne with 
a country gentleman, the Baron de Malepire, 
who soon became his friend and brother-in-arms. 
They were both in the flower of their youth, and 


Where shall He find Her? 47 

each had married a young wife who had followed 
them to the seat of war, and were both in the 
Chateau of Malepire, which was an impregnable 
fortress. There were several combats between the 
French and the Piedmontese, which devastated 
the lower countries. The Marquis de Champau- 
bert was wounded in one of these rencontres. 
The adlion occurred only two. miles distant from 
this place. His young wife flew to the battle-field, 
and succeeded in having him transported to the 
chateau, where he died the next day. A short 
time after that, the Baron de Malepire was killed 

under the walls of C . After this double 

misfortune, the two ladies remained at Malepire, 
shut in by the snows which cover these moun- 
tains six months of the year, and there brought 
into the world two sons who were born on the 
same day, and together were baptized at the vil- 
lage church ; in memory of which event two oaks 
were planted, to which were given the names of 
‘ the new-born children when I saw them their 
shade covered the whole square. Do they still 
exist } ” 


48 


Where shall He find Her? 


“ Yes, my lord,” replied I, quickly ; “ and even 
now they are called the Marquis and Baron, but 
no one knew why.” 

“ The two widows passed together the year of 
their mourning,” continued M. de Champaubert. 
“ After that they were obliged to separate ; but 
the similarity of their destinies had created in 
them a friendship which only terminated with 
their lives, and they brought up their sons with 
the same sentiments. Although they lived at 
the two extremities of the kingdom, they took 
upon themselves, reciprocally, to inform each 
other of all their domestic events, however tri- 
fling, nor did they fail to write each other on 
every anniversary. The desire for an alliance 
between the two families existed traditionally 
with them ; but Providence seemed to frown on 
this project and desire. For three generations 
there had been no daughters born to the house 
of Champaubert, and those of the house of Male- 
pire had died in the cradle. I was familar with 
all this from my infancy ; I knew also that the 
Baron of Malepire at last had a daughter who 


Where shall He jitid Her? 


49 


was nearly the same age as myself. I was not 
therefore astonished, two years after, when, on 
leaving La Chaise Dieu, my father announced to. 
me that he had arranged my marriage with 
Marie de Malepire. ‘ My dear child,’ said he, 
‘ I believe that this marriage will renew and 
revive the friendship. I knew the Baron when 
he went to Paris to espouse M’lle D’Herblay, a 
most charming person. He is a gentleman of the 
olden time, a little ignorant and simple-minded, 
but loyal, full of honor and greatness of soul. 
The fortune is solid and sufficient ; as to the 
name, there is none better. It is one of the best 
of the nobility of Provence. I am not informed 
as to the mind or personal beauty of the demoi- 
selle, but you will see for yourself I only know 
that she is not quite twenty.’ My father had 
said all this with a ^mile, which made me sus- 
pect that he was preparing me an agreeable sur- 
prise, and that he knew that M’lle de Malepire 
was an accomplished beauty. You may judge 
from this portrait that I was corredt in my sur- 
mise.” 


4 


So Where shall ile find Her? 

“ So ! she is quite a pretty person/’ said my 
uncle, raising his heavy eyebrows with the air 
of a peasant who forces himself to admire an 
antique medal, or a manuscript in a dead lan- 
guage. 

“I arrived here during the latter part of Au- 
gust, as I said before,” continued the Marquis. 
“ For eight days I had rolled in an incpmmodious 
post-chaise on the dusty highways ; and I can 
again recall the sensation of joy which I felt 
at the sight of these green mountains and fresh 
valleys, where I heard on all sides the murmur- 
ing of waters. I left my chaise at C . The 

neighboring road did not then exist ; there was 
only a narrow pathway for beasts of burden. 
I rode on horseback, attended by a mule-driver, 
who carried my luggage ; this man had travelled 
a little, and spoke good French, though he 
was but a countryman ; he gave me the names 
of all the hamlets which we saw in the dis- 
tance, and the history of each locality. When 
we arrived at the entrance to the gorge, which 
is called Malepire’s Pass, he halted, and showed 


51 


Where shall He find Her? 

me a flat stone which jutted out at the foot of 
the bridle-path ; perhaps this sort of seat still 
exists.” 

“Yes, certainly,” said my uncle. “It is there 
that my old servant, Marian, rests every Sunday 
on our way to mass.” 

“ I had expected to hear of some brigand 
adventurer in this gorge,” continued M. de 
Champaubert ; “ but the muleteer simply said to 
me, ‘ Hold, sir : here is the place where the Baron 
de Malepire’s daughter was resuscitated.’ 

“ ' What daughter } ’ cried I. 

“ ' She who is still alive and well, sir,’ replied 
he ; 'just listen. She fell ill at the age of seven, 
and died like the rest of her brothers and 
sisters, who for a long time had been with the 
good God. She seemed to be quite dead, and 
they put her into her coffin, with a crown of white 
roses on her head, and a ctoss of white flowers in 
her little hands ; they then set out to go and bury 
her below there, in an old chapel where the lords 
have their sepulchre. When the girls who carried 
the coffin arrived here, they were so tired that 


52 Where shall He find Herf 

V 

they placed the bier on this flat stone, in order to 
rest their weary limbs ; the Cure no longer recited 
the Libera, each one kept silence, not a sound was 
to be heard but that of the murmuring of the 
waters below. Suddenly a little voice came 
from the bier, the child rose, and looking at the 
stream said, “ I am thirsty ! ” All the attendants 
were very much astonished and frightened at 
seeing her rise from her coffln, but the Cure took 
her in his arms and carried her safe and well fo 
Madame la Baronne.’ 

‘‘ This recital m'ade me shudder, I knew not 
what fear already agitated my heart. I had 
accustomed myself to thoughts of love and 
marriage, and I trembled when I learned that 
I had been so near losing my unknown fia^ic^e^ 
— irresistible from this moment. The aspedl 
of nature threw me into a transport ; I was 
intoxicated by the 'v^ild perfume of the alpine 
plants, by the solitude, by the noise, soft and 
confused, which rose from the depths of the 
woods, and by the air which I ’breathed. It 
was in this state of mind that I arrived at 


Where shall He find Herf 53 

Malepire. The chateau was at this epoch an 
old fortress surrounded by formidable walls, 
flanked by indented towers, to which had 
been added some modern constructions; a new 
fagade marked the foot of the turret, and on a 
rock which jutted over a precipice, small green 
blinds shaded the windows, and the terrace had 
been transformed into a flower garden, exposed 
to every breeze ; but this embellishment had 
not changed the primitive character of this 
ancient feudal castle. The principal entrance 
was on the north side, and on this side the 
chateau had retained all the dark and warlike 
appearance of the edifices of the middle ages. 
A deep moat encircled the ramparts, and the 
gate opened between two small turrets still 
tenanted by falconets. The drawbridge re- 
mained as in the time of the war of Provence ; 
but for a number of years this formidable en- 
gine of war had not been raised, and now its 
solid planks formed a passage-way without chains 
or guards. ^ 

The sun was setting when I arrived. I dis- 


54 Where shall He find Herf 

mounted, and, throwing my horse’s bridle to the 
muleteer, advanced alone, seeking with my eyes 
some one to speak to. After having crossed an 
archway I entered a large courtyard, surrounded 
by very old battlements, whose casement win- 
dows were all closed. No one was to be seen. 
The most profound silence reigned, one might 
have thought the castle uninhabited. After 
having made the tour of the principal court I 
ventured to push a door which was partly open, 
and I saw before me the steps of a winding 
staircase. I groped my way up the staircase. 
On arriving at the top I found myself at the 
entrance of a grand saloon whose furniture dated 
at least from the Ligue. A lamp was lighted 
already and stood on the corner of a table, 
throwing sufficient light to enable me to per- 
ceive at a glance the Berganz carpet and high- 
backed fauteuil, the burnished candlesticks 
which were attached to the wall and loaded 
with great wax candles, and the chimney with 
its vast mantelpiece advancing like a dais of 
stone above the hearth ; this saloon led to a 


Where shall He find Herl 


55 


second apartment, .where I heard the sharp 
barking of a little dog who doubtless perceived 
that a stranger was near, and was making a most 
furious noise. At the first knock which I gave 
to announce my presence I saw a rough girl 
dressed in green stuff, and whose head was cov- 
ered with a brown muslin cap ; the girl did not 
wait to hear my name, but •ran toward a door 
beyond, crying : * Mademoiselle Boinet ! Made- 
moiselle Boinet ! ’ 

A person of a certain age, whose dress was 
that of a servant of a well-ordered house, imme- 
diately appeared, and came curtsying towards 
me. 

“ When I had given my name she smiled know- 
ingly, as if to intimate that she knew the motive 
of my visit, and said to me with a Parisian ac- 
cent : 

“ ' Your humble servant, sir ; I will inform Ma- 
dame la Baronne.’ 

“A moment had hardly elapsed when the 
double door was thrown open and the Baro- 
ness herself appeared before me, saying : * Mon- 


56 


Where shall He find Herf 


sieur de Champaubert, permit me to apologize 
to you .... I am mortified that you should 
have found no one below to receive you ; it was 
because we did not expedt you until to-mor- 
row.’ 

“It was now my turn to apologize for arriving 
thus unexpedledly, and the Baroness led the way 
to her apartment. When I had crossed the sill 
of the door of this apartment where the Baro- 
ness passed her life, I was so struck with the 
contrast between it and the large saloon, that I 
stopped short, saying : 

“ ‘ Really, Madame la Baronne, this approaches 
the marvellous : you have transported to the sum- 
mit of this mountain the saloon of one of the 
finest hotels of Versailles, or the Faubourg St. 
Germain.’ 

“ ‘ Eh ! yes, sir,’ said she with a sigh : ^ I am 
reduced to ensconcing myself in a corner of this 
old chateau ; when the curtains are drawn and 
the candles lighted I can believe myself still as 
at Paris, but if I venture to look out of the win- 
dow the illusion is no longer possible — instead of 


57 


Where shall He find Herf 

the gardens of the Luxembourg, I see below me 
the roofs of the village houses, and on all sides 
rocks and woods and mountains. In truth I 
have often been tempted to sajy, as did my late 
mother-in-law, who, having married the Baron’s 
father, wrote from here to her uncle the Cardi- 
nal : “ Here I am housed in such a manner as to 
have the eagles on my back and to be able to 
take the morn in my teeth.” ’ At these words 
she laughed immoderately, and sank back non- 
chalantly into her sofa ; after having motioned 
me to a seat beside herself and taken on her lap 
the little spaniel, which persisted in snapping at 
me. The Baroness was a little woman, slenderly 
and delicately made, who at the first glance 
seemed young, although her age was on the 
decline. Her toilette was rather out of date, but 
suited well her delicate features ;. the rouge and 
powder which she wore gave her the lasting 
freshness of a family portrait ; she wore as great- 
lady the incommodious train, and a furbelowed 
skirt weighed down by immense pockets of crino- 
line, and walked with incomparable grace on 


58 


Where shall He find Her^ 


shoes with Heels of a prodigious height. I casu- 
ally made all these observations, my mind being 
too preoccupied, and my heart too profoundly 
troubled to follow^ any other idea than that which 
absorbed me. At each instant I listened and 
looked round me, hoping that M’lle de Malepire 
would appear, and yet not daring to ask for her 
or even pronounce ]ier name. 

“ ‘ The Baron is at the chase as usual, ’ observed 
the Baroness, ‘ but he will soon return : en atten- 
dant, you will have some refreshment, — a little 
wine or eau sticriel 

“ I declined, but she insisted. 

“ ‘ Surely you will take coffee with me ; that 
you cannot refuse. M’lle Boinet, bring the tete- 
a-tite, and ring for some boiling water.’ 

“ The maid pushed towards her mistress a 
little round table on which she placed a box 
of India wood. The Baroness opened this cas- 
ket, where were disposed, in compartments of 
blue velvet, a sugar-bowl, a coffee-pot, and the 
two Sevres cups which you see on the mantel- 
piece.” 


Where shall He find Herf 


59 


“ Ah ! ” murmured I, pressing my hands to 
my burning forehead, “ ’tis as I thought ! ” 
The Marquis looked at me, smiled faintly, and 
continued : 

“ When the coffee was made, the Baroness 
Jierself served it in the two cups, and handed 
me one ; then taking the other herself, she said : 
‘ M’lle Boinet, say to my daughter that I wish 
to see her ; nothing' more, you understand/ 

“ I trembled and remained mute ; my confu- 
sion made the Baroness smile, and she said to 
me with almost raillery : 

“ ‘ If you were a girl, what then ? ’ 

“ And after a moment of silence she added, in 
a more serious tone : 

‘ The child does not expe6l to see you here. 
Therefore do not be surprised if at first she does 
not give you the reception you merit/ 

“ ‘ I merit nothing as yet/ said I quickly ; ‘ I 
only hope : hope, to render myself worthy in her 
eyes of the happiness which is promised me.’ 
Almost at the same instant M’lle de Malepire 
entered by a door opposite to that which opened 


6o 


Where shall He find Her f 


on the grand saloon. I heard her coming with a 
light step ; but, on perceiving me, she stopped 
suddenly, and seemed as if tempted to fly. Her 
mother apparently understood this agitation, or 
rather hesitation ; for she rose, went to her, and 
led her by the hand, saying to me in a cheerful 
tone, as she said so : ‘ This is my daughter, 
sir ; a very wild little person ; our solitude has 
made her thus, but I believe she will be quite 
amiable, when she has seen a little of the 
world.’ 

“ I stammered a compliment, to which Marie 
de Malepire made no reply., save by a slight 
nod of, the head ; then she seated herself ; her 
forehead serious, her countenance cold, almost 
haughty ; evidently this humor, which her mother 
called wild and endeavored to excuse, approach- 
ed an excess of reserve to the absence of the 
slightest desire to please ; but such was the 
charm of her person, that spite of this visible 
indifference, she irresistibly attradled hearts. 
The portrait which you have before you gives 
but a feeble idea of the beautiful creature. 


Where shall He find Her? 6i 

What pencil could render the freshness of her 
complexion, the soft passion of her glance, the 
languor of her smile ? Ah ! she was indeed a 
miracle of beauty ; she had that invincible at- 
tradlion which seduced the first man, and would 
have fascinated the serpent himself had he been 
formed of mortal clay. I was completely daz- 
zled by so many charms ; the agitation of my 
heart was so great that I lost all presence of 
mind. In truth, I must have appeared a per- 
fect blockhead all that evening, when I felt for 
the first time that I was desperately in love. 

“ The Baroness took her coffee in little sips, and 
alone condudled the conversation. 

‘ My darling,’ said she, glancing at her daugh- 
ter’s very simple toilette. ‘ I do not like to see 
you thus in your muslin dhhabille and flat shoes. 
Why is your hair without powder } — one may 
easily see that M’lle Boinet did nOt dress you- 
to-day ; positively, you are frightful to be- 
hold.’ 

“ ‘ Really, mamma ! ’ murmured Marie de Mal- 
epire, raising her eyes to the mirror, opposite to 


62 


Where shall He find Herf 

which she happened to be seated, and in which 
I myself had been contemplating her for a quar- 
ter of an hour,^ — her beautiful hair negligent- 
ly caught up behind with a tucking-comb ; the 
dazzling fairness of her complexion, and the ele- 
gance of her figure in a corsage of blue India 
muslin, the skirt of which, as it floated around 
her, gave her the appearance of an angel sur- 
rounded by blue clouds. 

“ Her glance having encountered mine in the 
mirror, she immediately turned her head away, 
with an annoyed, rather than a timid air. 

“ ‘ Excuse my daughter s niglig^l continued the 
Baroness, addressing herself to me. ‘ She did 
not know that we were to have a guest this 
evening, otherwise she would have appeared 
in evening dress. I should like her habitually 
to bestow more . care on her toilette, but I 
cannot influence her on this point. She thinks 
it impossible to walk, except on flat-soled 
shoes.’ 

“‘Mademoiselle is not altogether mistaken,’ 
replied I : ‘ It would seem a difficult matter to 


Where shall He find Herf 63 

maintain one’s equilibrium with shoes such as 
yours, Madame la Baronne.’ 

“‘Not at all, I assure you,’ replied she, quickly. 
‘ It is, however, an acquired habit ; I could not 
take a step outside my chamber without 
heels.’ 

“As she said this, she advanced her little foot 
encased in an extravagant shoe which permitted 
only her great toe to touch the floor, and struck 
together their high wooden heels which were 
covered with sheepskin. 

“ ‘ I have often danced in shoes like these,’ 
added she with a sigh. ‘ It was in an amateur 
ballet at the Hotel Richelieu, where I appeared 
as a shepherdess : it was long ago.’ Then pass- 
ing rapidly from these puerilities to graver sub- 
iedls, she continued : ‘ It is a terrible thing, sir, 
to live as we do here, far from all society, and 
almost without any communication with the 
world. This sort of exile was quite novel to me 
when I first came to this wild country. I did not 
imagine that I should always remain here, and 
therefore took my isolation patiently, because I was 


64 ' Where shall He find Herf 

young, and thought that having so great a num- 
ber of years before me, I had still sufficient time 
for the gayeties of the world ; and thus I saw 
time and my youth pass without any uneasiness. 
The Baron is goodness and kindness personified ; 
although this life suits him exadlly, he would wil- 
lingly have taken me to Paris. Every spring 
and autumn the question was discussed, but I 
had so many children that when it was necess- 
sary to set out on our journey, I was invaria- 
bly detained. If I had not succeeded in esta- 
blishing myself in this apartment, and if I had 
not poor Boinet with me, I believe I should have 
died of emtuil 

^‘^By a favor of Heaven there still remains to 
you one daughter, madame,’ said I timidly ; ‘ in 
occupying yourself with the education of made- 
moiselle, your daughter, you must have been less 
mindful of your isolation.’ 

“ ‘ True,’ replied she, leaning forward to fasten 
in her daughter’s hair a noeud of ribbon which 
she happened to perceive on a table near her. 
‘This dear child has never left me. It was I 


Where shall He find Herf 


65 


who taught her to read. I wished also to teach 
her a little music, and to play on the harpsichord, 
but I have succeeded in neither, — her education 
has been almost by chance. Amongst the furni- 
ture which I had sent from Paris, there was a 
little library filled with books chosen by my late 
uncle, the Bailiff of Herbelay, a philosopher and 
a learned man, who was associated with all the 
wits of his time. My daughter has seized upon 
all these works, ancient and modern ; her greatest 
pleasure is to read them, although they cannot 
be very amusing. To-day, she has passed 
all the afternoon tete-a-tete with a great vol- 
ume.’ 

“ I ventured to address Mademoiselle de Male- 
pire, and ask her what book it was that inter- 
ested her so intensely. 

“ ‘ The Philosophical History of the two Indies, 
by the ATbot Raynal,’ replied she : ‘ it is an ad- 
mirable work ; I am sorry, however, to see certain 
passages favorable to the Jesuits.’ 

“‘You have taken part against them,’ cried I 
then : “you are a Jansenist, mademoiselle.’ 

5 


66 Where shall He fijtd Herf 

“ ‘ No, sir,’ replied she with vivacity : ‘ I am 
nothing at all.’ 

“ ‘ I am glad my daughter likes reading. It is 
a great resource against ennuil continued the 
Baroness, as she played with her snuff-box. * As 
for myself I have not a mind capable of applica- 
tion, and I cannot endure serious books.’ 

“ ‘ But there are perhaps other means of diver- 
sion,’ said I, astonished at this incurable frivolity. 
‘ If you would take my counsel, madame, I would 
engage to take you walking on these beautiful 
pastoral mountains, where there are no less 
flowers than grass ; surely, the most cultivated 
flower-garden could not offer a more smiling 
prospedt.’ 

“ * Y es, it is pretty,’ said she negligently ; ‘ but 
one cannot go to them as to the gardens of Ver- 
sailles, by an even smooth road ; to reach these 
fields one is obliged to cross I know not how 
many precipices.’ 

“‘Then we must look nearer,’ replied I. 
‘Were I in your place, Madame la Baronne, 
I should try to interest myself in what is pass- 


6 ; 


Where shall He find Her! 

ing around me ; I should occupy myself with the 
details of rural life I would go down to the 
village, and occasionally enter the little houses 
where the tenants live.’ 

“ ‘ Pooh ! ’ exclaimed she, laughing ; * you know 
not what you are advising me to do. I see 
these good people every Sunday at church at a 
distance, and I declare to you that it is quite 
sufficient -to prevent my wishing to take a nearer 
view of them.’ 

“ It appeared to me that a burst of indignation 
shone in M’He de Malepire’s glance, and that 
on hearing this observation she made an invo- 
luntary movement as if to get away from her 
mother’s side. She also appeared tacitly to 
approve of my words, an instant afterwards 
turned towards me a less severe countenance 
than she had hitherto worn, and said : 

“ ^ Is it true, monsieur, that one may find such 
beautiful flowers on our pastoral mountains ? ’ 

“ ‘ The most beautiful flowers of our gardens,’ 
cried I : ^ there are slopes entirely covered with 
a carpet of blue forget-me-nots and violet-capped 


68 


Where shall He find Her? 


aconites, and many other rare and charming 
plants ; but, mademoiselle, you surely must often 
have walked in that part of the domain of Male- 
pire. ’ 

“ ‘ Never, sir,’ replied she, coldly. ‘ My mother 
never leaves this chateau except to go to church, 
and she does not permit me to take a single step 
without hen’ 

“‘Here comes the Baron,’ said Madame de 
Malepire, turning towards the half-open window : 
‘ he is entering the court.’ 

“ In short, one could hear a sound on that side ; 
a sort of tumult, — at the same time the barking 
of dogs. Almost immediately, the floor of the 
grand saloon resounded with the tread of a heavy 
foot ; and the Baron appeared with his pouch on 
his back, and his gun in his hand. In truth, if I 
had met him thus I should have taken him for a 
poacher. He threw his hat on the sofa, wiped 
his sunburnt face, and embraced me cordially, 
asking news of my father. 

“ ‘ Good-day, wife ; good-day, daughter,’ said 
he : ‘ guess what game I have brought you.’ 


Where shall He find Her? 69 

‘ Animals or birds ? ’ asked M’lle de Malepire, 
gliding her hand into the game-pouch. 

“ ^ Both/ replied the Baron triumphantly : I 
have there three white wood-hens, two partridges, 
and two hares which have kept me on the run all 
the morning. I would not have had them with- 
out that great boy who won the metal plate at 
the wrestling last year.’ 

“ ' Pinatel ’ asked M’lle de Malepire. 

^“The same,’ replied the Baron, displaying 
the game : ‘ he was there with his dog, — a dog 
for which I would willingly give ten crowns, 
although he looks like a badger. This hare 
received the contents of my gun in its reins, 
and fell under the Bar of Piedfourche, at the 
foot of a precipice. My dogs did not wish 
to descend ; Leander himself refused ; then 
this Pinatel went in search of it with his 
little dog, and brought me the animal which 
you see. What have we here, I wonder.^’ he 
added, emptying his pouch. ^ What little figure 
is this } ’ 

“ ^ Let us see it ? ’ cried the two ladies. 


70 


Where shall He ji7id Her? 


“It was a figure rudely carved in wood, and 
very much resembled a Nuremberg doll. ' 

. “ ^ What is this piece of wood intended to repre- 
sent } ’ inquired Madame de Malepire, looking 
at it, but not touching it. 

“ ' A hunter, I suppose,’ replied the Baron : 
‘ he has his gun in his hand.’ 

“^You are mistaken, father : it Is a shepherd 
guarding his flocks, leaning on his crook,’ inter- 
rupted M’lle de Malepire, taking possession of 
the little figure. 

“ ‘ My daughter, put on your gloves before you 
touch that, ’ cried the Baroness ; ‘ who knows 
through how many hands that ugly little image 
has passed } Some peasant has manufadlured it 
in a stable, seated on his sheep’s-litter.’ 

“‘Yes, probably,’ replied M’lle de Malepire, 
putting the figure into her pocket. 

“ ‘ It is the image of some saint which Choiset, 
the gamekeeper, has slipped into my pouch, to 
bring me good luck,’ said the Baron simply ; 
then he disencumbered himself of his shoulder- 
b^lt, threw his powder-horn on the table, and 


71 


Where shall He find Herf 

himself into the arm-chair, leaning his elbows on 
the cushion of pearl-colored damask. Madame de 
Malepire, seated opposite to him, played with her 
fan, and took from time to time a pinch of Span- 
ish snuff, which she carried in a little box of 
burnished gold. You may imagine the contrast 
which these two persons formed : . he, with his 
coarse vest 6f blue cloth, his great leathern gai- 
ters reaching above his knees, his face burnt by 
the sun, his large coarse hands, and his colossal 
stature ; she, with her trinkets, her laces, her 
diminutive figure, together with the airs and 
graces of a fine lady ; for myself, I was complete- 
ly stupefied. 

“ The Baron inquired as to what was passing at 
court, and naturally the conversation touched 
on the last events. The old gentleman did not 
understand the meaning of what he styled an 
audacious sedition, and he spoke of it with a 
scornful indignation. ‘ Sir,’ said he to me, 

‘ we have nothing to fear, the King, is master ; 
he will prove it when it suits him ; with a gesture, 
with a single word, he will crush the fa6tions.* 


72 


Where shall He find Herf 


“ ‘ Who knows ? ’ murmured M’lle de Male- 
pire, with a singular expression. 

I remarked the movement, and commenced to 
think that the Philosophical History of the Indies 
had borne its fruits ; but this tendency to new 
opinions I regarded as the dream of a generous 
mind, and did not annoy myself for the conse- 
quences which might ensue. We passed into the 
grand saloon for supper ; on a sign from the Ba- 
roness I offered my hand to M’lle de Malepire 
and took a seat beside her ; but she turned her 
eyes away from me, and, when I addressed any 
conversation to her, she answered me shortly 
and with marked coldness ; ' still I could see 
plainly that she was neither sad nor disconcerted, 
on the contrary she appeared smiling and drea- 
my, which rendered her still more beautiful, and 
made a fool of me. 

“ After supper we returned to the drawing- 
room, which was brilliantly lighted and arranged 
as if a large company was expedled, the fan- 
teuils disposed in a demi-circle opposite the 
chimney, the hearth of which was veiled by a 


73 


Where shall find Her? 

Screen worked in purple and gold, with the 
escutcheon of the Malepires in the centre. The 
harpsichord was open, and the card-table prepar- 
ed before the sofa. The Baroness seated her- 
self at the harpsichord, and played a little easy 
sonata; looking at the ceiling meanwhile, and 
balancing her head on one side with the air of a 
conqueror. During this music the Baron 'slept 
profoundly, and Mile de Malepire gradually had 
retired to the embrasure of a window, the cur- 
tains of which hid her almost entirely from view. 
Thus I could see her profile ; she was standing, 
her forehead resting on her hand, and looking 
through the window into the darkness, where 
might be distinguished three luminous points, 
indicative of the situation of the village houses, 
where the people had not yet retired. 

“ * Will you take a hand, monsieur } ’ inquired 
the Baroness, leaving the harpsichord. ‘ I stake 
you one cent at piquet ; it was the favorite play 
of the Bailiff of Herbelay, and by great good-for- 
tune I was his pupil, but it was so long ago that 
I fear I have forgotten his lessons.’ 


74 


Where shall He find Herf 


“ The card-table was near the window ; and, in 
seating myself, I was so placed that the curtain 
alone separated me from Mile de Malepeire ; she 
immediately left the window and went and seated 
herself behind her mother. 

“ ‘ You never play, then, mademoiselle 'i ’ said 
I, mixing the cards. 

“ ‘At piquet No, sir,* replied she. 

“ ‘ The Baron cannot keep his eyes open after 
supper ; as for my daughter, she has never been 
able to learn to distinguish the king of hearts 
from the knave of clubs ; having no one for my 
partner, I sometimes amuse myself at a game 
called patience ; it is a way of drawing the cards 
and reading the future.’ 

“ ‘ Will you grant me a sitting } ’ said I, jest- 
ingly. 

“ ‘ Very willingly,’ replied she in the same tone, 
and looking at her daughter. ‘ We will consult 
the cards to know how soon a handsome, dark 
young man will become the husband of a beau- 
tiful blonde.’ 

Mile de Malepire blushed at this diredl allu- 


75 


Where shall He find Herf 

sion, and her pencilled eyebrows were slightly 
contradled. A moment after she rose and asked 
permission of her mother to retire, silently bow- 
ing her head to me as she passed from the room. 

“ ‘ Ah, madame ! ’ said I to the Baroness, ‘ I 
fear the cards will give me anything but a favor- 
able answer.’ 

“ ‘ In that case they will not tell the truth/ re- 
plied she quickly, presenting me the cards ; ^ cut, 
my son-in-law.’ 

“ We had five or six games at piquet ; Madame 
de Malepire was delighted. ‘ It seems to me,’ 
said she, ‘ that I am in Paris.’ 

At the first stroke of midnight, the Baron 
woke, and said to me, looking at the clock, ‘ You 
must be very much fatigued ; pardon me for 
having kept you so late ; it is all owing to the 
Baroness ; she makes me sit up until this hour 
every evening.’ 

According to the usages of ancient hospitali- 
ty, the old gentleman himself went before me with 
a torch, and condudted me to the apartment in- 
tended for my use ; before leaving me, he pressed 


76 


Where shall He find Herf 


my hand and said, with emotion, ‘ Your arrival has 
overwhelmed me with joy ; good-night, my dear 
count, I will speak with you to-morrow morning/ 
“ Despite the fatigues of the day, I did not 
sleep much, that night M’lle de Malepire’s 
image was constantly before me. If I closed 
my eyes I saw her in dreams, and when I 
awoke my thoughts continued the dream. I 
delighted in this sort of trouble, in this intoxi- 
cation of my own heart, and it was with a sort 
of joy that I felt myself drawn, vanquished, and 
entirely subjugated by an attradlion stronger 
than my reason or my will. This fever of 
mind, however, was dissipated with the dawn. 
The* charming phantom which had beset me 
disappeared with the first rays of the sun, and 
I passed suddenly from an exalted hope to a 
desponding melancholy. I was in this mind, 
when the Baron entered my room the next 
morning. Although the castle clock had hot 
yet chimed the hour of seven I was already 
dressed. The Baron seated himself beside me, 
and said without preamble : 


77 


Where shall He find Her? 

** ‘ My dear count, your reception here has 
been sufficient to convince you of our feelings 
towards you. You have already gained the 
heart of the Baroness ; she is enchanted with 
your mind, your face, your manners. As for 
myself, I loved you at first sight, because you 
resemble so exadlly your father, who is the 
finest man I ever knew. Now, it is your turn to 
acquaint me with your sentiments, and to tell 
me if you are pleased with regard to my daugh- 
ter ; if you find her sufficiently beautiful and 
agreeable.’ 

“ ' Ah, sir,’ cried I, ‘ can you doubt it .? She 
appears to me of surpassing beauty, and I shall 
esteem myself the happiest of men if I obtain 
her hand.’ 

“ ‘ In that case,’ replied the Baron gayly, ‘ it 
only remains for us to register the contradl, and 
to name the day for your wedding.’ 

“ ‘ You foresee no obstacle ? ’ inquired I timidly. 

“ ‘ What obstacle ? ’ exclaimed he astonished : 
‘ you have my consent and that of the Baroness.’ 
I pressed his hand, which he tendered me in 


78 Where shall He find Herf 

sign of promise ; and after having thus accepted 
this engagement of honor, which bound us one 
to the other better than a contract, I begged 
him as a favor to say nothing about our agree- 
ment as yet to M’lle de Malepire, and to grant 
me a few days to obtain from her own lips her 
consent’ 

“ ‘ I can refuse you nothing,’ replied he laugh- 
ingly. ' Pay your court, “ Handsome Amadis ; ” 
my daughter must have a heart of steel not to 
be compelled to return your love. Now,’ added 
he, ‘ we will to breakfast, after which we will 
make a tour of the castle ; we shall not be hur- 
ried, as the Baroness does not rise until mid-day, 
in time for dinner.’ 

“ The Chateau de Malepire can hardly be more 
than a heap of ruins now ; but at that time not 
a stone was detached from its old ramparts, and 
it contained some rare treasures. I saw, in the 
tower of the turret, a standard taken in the first 
crusade by one of the lords of Malepire. It 
was torn yellow silk, attached to a simple staff of 
black wood. 


79 


Where shall He find Herf 

“ The Baron stopped before this trophy, and 
said, as he contemplated it : ' The law which 
abolishes, the titles of nobility cannot condemn 
these old Saracen banners as despicable rags ; 
like ourselves, while our race exists, it will re- 
main noble and right spite of revolutions.’ 

“ I repeat the old gentleman’s words, to give 
you an idea of his principles, and to make you 
understand the terrible inflexibility of which he 
gave proof shortly after ; a little before the din- 
ner-hour, the Baroness sent M’lle Boinet, to 
ask me to come to her apartment ; I, to my 
great disappointment found her alone. 

“ ‘ Good-morning, sir,’ said she, graciously giv- 
ing me her gloved hand to kiss. The Baron 
has just given me a hint of your interview of 
this morning ; I was impatient to see you, that I 
might tell you how charmed I am with your pro- 
ceedings ; this delicacy is that of a gallant man. 
I very much approve of your wishing to gain 
the entire heart of my daughter.’ 

“ ^ I shall try, madame,’ said I, with a sigh. 

“ * The opportunity to pay your court is not 


8o 


Where shall He find Her? 


wanting/ replied the Baroness. 'As a com- 
mencement, I would advise you to go down to 
the parterre, where you will find my daughter. 
Go quickly ; I have managed you a tete-d-tete of 
a quarter of an hour.’ 

“ M’lle de Malepire was walking slowly under 
the shadow of an elm-tree which bordered 
the walk, and at the extremity of which there 
was a bower of verdure, if one might so call a 
trellis painted sea-green, which was entirely 
covered with climbing plants. I advanced, with 
a palpitating heart, into a little avenue parallel 
with the elms ; but such was the preoccupation 
of M’lle that she did not perceive my ap- 
proach. I saw her enter the arbor, and seat 
herself pensively on a bench where she had left 
her work-basket. She bent her head on her 
hand for an instant, and then resumed her work. 
Then I approached her. She rose on perceiving 
me. I understood that her intention was to 
leave me, and hastened to say to her: ‘M’lle, 
your mother gave me permission to seek you ; 
will you do me the favor to accept my arm on 


Where shall He find Her? 8i 

your return to the drawing-room ? ’ She inclined 
with a gesture which expressed neither consent 
nor refusal, and continued her work without rais- 
ing her eyes to me. I was too much moved to 
find the first word of what I wished to say to her, 
and kept an embarrassed silence, which must 
have appeared strange to her. I was seated on 
the bench beside her, and had absently taken 
up the end of a long band of blue silk which shfe 
was embroidering with gold and silver leaves. 
This embroidery was of a very mediocre kind ; 
nevertheless, I examined it as if I had before me 
a chef d' oeuvre worthy of all admiration ; and, 
after having sufficiently contemplated it, I re- 
spedlfully replaced the corner of the scarf which 
I held before M’lle de Malepire, asking her 
for whom the work of her hands was destined 
‘ For him who merits it,’ said she, holding it so 
as to see the effedl: of a fringe which she had just 
placed below the embroidery. 

“ ‘ Is it then the question of a tournament } ’ 
said I, jestingly. ‘ In that case, mademoiselle, I 

shall enter the list to dispute with all comers 

. 6 


82 Where shall He fijtd Herf 

the prize which you destine for the van- 
quisher.’ 

“ ‘ I think not, sir,’ replied she, smiling. 

“ ‘ Why not, mademoiselle } ’ replied I passion- 
ately. ‘ Even should my life be in danger, I 
would willingly risk it for less than this ; for a 
ribbon, a flower, that had ever belonged to you.’ 

“ She immediately punished me for this folly 
by turning her head in a startled manner. 

“ ‘ I beseech you,’ added I, ‘ tell me what I 
must do to merit a thing so precious in my eyes.’ 

“ ^ You must win it against a crowd of compe- 
titors,’ replied she, with an air of gloomy raillery. 

“ ‘ I will carry it,’ cried I, full of confidence. 

“ She smiled again, and- said quietly : ‘You 
will not even try.’ 

“ ‘ What will prevent me 1 ’ replied I. 

“ ‘ Next Sunday is the fete-day of the country,’ 
continued she in the same tone ; ‘ all the youth 
in the place will be here to take part in the 
games ; during the afternoon the men will wrestle 
on the village green, and the most agile and the 
strongest will win this scarf. You see plainly. 


Where shall He find Herf 83 

sir, that you cannot contend with such compe- 
titors, and that I am right in saying that you 
will not even desire to dispute their prize.’ 

“ I had the weakness to be confused and piqued 
at this explanation ; and I immediately replied, 
‘ So, mademoiselle, this scarf is to figure beside 
a pewter plate, which, I understood your father 
to say yesterday, is also to be a prize ? I think 
it is doing great honor to that tavern utensil.’ 

“ I, in my turn, had wounded her, and more 
deeply than I thought ; she blushed, and said to 
me with an air of indignation and secret men- 
ace : ■ 

“‘You despise the amusements of the people. 
Your pride disdains these simple workingmen, 
whose labor sustains you ; but patience, patience ! ’ 

“ As it was not the time to make professions to 
her of my philosophical and political faith, I sim- 
ply replied : 

“ ‘ Be persuaded that I neither despise nor dis- 
dain any one, not even the most humble. How- 
ever, I have, I confess, sympathies and repug- 
tiances which belong to my education.’ 


84 Where shall He find Herf 

“‘To your prejudices/ murmured she. 

“ I did not repeat her words, which might have 
become the text for a discussion, but contented 
myself with adding : ‘ I decidedly prefer, it is 

true, the world in which I live ; and I am con- 
vinced that your sentiments will be the same 
when you shall have taken your rank beside 
your equals, among the most beautiful, the most 
admired, the most honored.’ 

“ She shook her head and said quietly, ‘ Never.’ 

“ ‘ What ! ’ cried I, ‘ have you no desire to 
know the dite society of which your education 
has already given you an idea, — no wish to go 
out of your solitude, were it only to see the 
great city of Paris of which you have so often 
heard spoken ? ’ 

“ ‘ No, monsieur,’ replied she, I fear, on the 
contrary, all which can take me from this place ; 
and it would cause me inexpressible grief to 
leave our poor mountains.’ 

“This declaration, articulated in a firm and dis- 
tindl tone, did not discourage me. It was evident, 
that if M’lle de Malepire was determined to 


Where shall He find Herf 


35 


pass all her days in, the old chateau where she 
was born, her choice must necessarily fall on 
me, if only for want of other aspirants. I fore- 
saw, also, in the future, rising storms, which 
threatened to cloud the calm and brilliant exist- 
ence of which I should wish to assure her in 
taking her away ; nor did the idea of secluding 
myself in this corner of the world with her 
alarm me. 

“‘You are right perhaps,’ said I, after a pause ; 
‘you are right to prefer, above all things, the 
security and tranquillity which one may enjoy 
here. Moreover, your life elsewhere might be 
troubled by events which no human foresight 
could guard you against. If the Revolution is 
not quelled. Heaven only knows what is to be- 
come of the elegant and polished society of which 
I have spoken to you ; better far would it be to 
bury one’s self in the most profound retreat, than 
to be witness to the dissolution and decay of that 
old French society on which the new re'gime has 
already brought such a terrible blow. The di.s- 
tinclions of rank abolished, the nobility emi- 


86 


Where shall He find Herf 


grated or dispersed in the provinces. In return- 
ing to Paris I shall, perhaps, find many salons 
deserted, many houses closed. With such pros- 
pe6ls, I for one would willingly live in retirement 
from the world as a simple country gentleman.’ 

“‘You, sir.?’ interrupted she abruptly: ‘how 
absurd ! you, like my mother, would be constantly 
complaining, and regretting the assemblies and 
balls, visits, games, and all the dissipations and 
pleasures to which you have been accustomed.’ 

“ ‘ With you, I should regret nothing,’ replied 
I, with an involuntary burst of tenderness and 
devoted love. She recoiled to the extremity of 
the bench, elevating her shoulders with a certain 
air of pride and ill-nature, which would have dis- 
figured any other woman, but which by a diabo- 
lical prestige rendered her still more charming. 
Then, without seeming to regard my presence, 
and as if fatigued with the interview, she leaned 
against the trellis, and commenced looking 
through the sort of window at the surrounding 
country. This movement disarranged her gauze 
hood ; and, though she turned away her head, I 


Where shall He find Herf 87 

could see through her blonde hair the admira- 
ble contour of her face, her satin-like temple, 
and her swan-like neck, behind which floated 
two ends of black ribbon. There was a suffici- 
ently long silence, during which I looked at her, 
feeling troubled and charmed, waiting until she 
should turn her eyes towards me and not daring 
to address her. She had not changed her attitude 
and appeared plunged in a profound reverie. 
Suddenly I saw her tremble and blush : one 
might almost have counted the beatings of her 
heart, and she leaned against the trellis like one 
about to faint under the excess of her emotion. 
I had risen hastily and looked over her shoulder 
before, behind, everywhere around, to see if I 
could discover the cause of so great emotion ; 
but it was useless : no one was passing under 
the castle walls ; all around was quiet and de- 
serted, and beyond I could see no one but the 
laundresses, occupied in spreading out linen to 
dry near the fountain, where my mule-driver was 
giving drink to his beasts of burden, and below 
the village some straggling peasants, and a few 


88 


Where shall He find Herf 


wandering shepherds in search of their scattered 
flocks. All this lasted but a moment ; M’lle de 
Malepire breathed heavily, and passed her hand- 
kerchief over her cheek, from which the brilliant 
red had almost faded, and turned round with an 
air of tranquillity and pride, which showed plainly 
that she thought I had observed nothing of her 
emotion. In fadt, I was somewhat in doubt, not 
knowing how to account for what I had seen, 
and almost ready to believe that I had been mis- 
taken. A moment after, the first stroke of mid- 
day sounded, and at the same time a bell chimed 
to announce dinner. M’lle de Malepire rose, 
and I was about to offer my arm, when she ad- 
vanced under pretext of gathering a bouquet in 
the parterre. I rejoined her only at the door of 
the dining-room ; there she nodded her head 
slightly, and put the tips of her fingers on the 
sleeve of my coat, and thus we entered together. 

“ During dinner, the conversation again turned 
upon politics, and on the events which had oc- 
curred during the last few months. 

‘‘‘The consequences of these disorders are 


Where shall He find Her? 8g 

apparent even here/ said the Baron to me: ‘our 
peasantry are animated by a bad spirit, especially 
the youth ; a sort of agitation reigns throughout 
the whole province, and the political news stimu- 
lates this effervescence.’ 

“ ‘ The political news ! ’ cried I. ‘ Ah ! how 
do these worthy people hear the news ? ’ 

“ ‘ By numerous and indefatigable messengers,’ 
replied the Baron ; ‘ by these wandering trades- 
men who infest the hamlets and the provinces 
with their merchandise on their backs ; by these 
herculean vagabonds whose only calling is to 
haunt the fairs and fetes of the villages to 
make assaults at the race, and at the wrest- 
lings. The news which they retail is trans- 
mitted from mouth to mouth with inconceivable 
rapidity. These are the agents of disorder who 
have already done so much harm. Lastly, they 
circulated a report that the Assembly had de- 
creed the demolition of all lordly habitations, 
from fortified castles to small manors. Then 
the peasants swept like an avalanche in the lower 
province, and they marched to the assault of 


90 Where shall He find Herf 

Maussane Castle, a fine chateau built in the mod- 
ern style, which they entered. The next day, a 
detachment from a regiment in Bourgogne, can- 
toned at D , arrived to repress this sedition ; 

but too late. The peasants were dispersed af- 
ter having devastated, pillaged, and burned the 
castle.’ 

“ ‘ A country where such atrocities are com- 
mitted is lost,’ said I, sorrowfully. 

“ ‘ The times are troubled, but I am satisfied as 
to the issue of events,’ added the Baron with im- 
perturbable confidence. ‘ It is not the first time 
that fadlions have devastated the kingdom, and 
our fathers knew what civil war was. . We will 
do as they did : we will defend our rights, our 
laws, and our faith. These old walls were be- 
sieged more than once during the time of the 
Ligue ; but the Huguenots never scaled them. ’ 
On leaving the table, the Baron took his gun 
to make the tour of his cornfields, a three-mile 
promenade, which usually kept him till nightfall. 
I therefore remained tete-a-tite with the Baron- 
ess, for M’lle de Malepire had disappeared as 


Where shall He find HeVf 91 

soon as we entered the drawing-room. I fol- 
lowed her with my eyes ; she entered a small 
apartment, the door of which remained partly 
open, and as she walked I could vaguely distin- 
guish her shadow on the polished oaken floor. 

“ ‘ Well, sir, did you succeed in your court- 
ing } ’ inquired the Baroness, seating herself in 
the arm-chair. 

“ ' Alas ! Yes, madame, ’ replied I ; ‘ but I am 
very much discouraged.’ 

‘ Bah ! ’ exclaimed she, ‘ I see no reason why 
you should be. My daughter, I know, is some- 
what diffident ; she may not treat you favorably 
at first, although, at heart, she must render jus- 
tice to your merit. It will take time, perhaps, to 
make yourself beloved by XHxs, belle indiffe'rente ; 
but no matter, you will marry her meanwhile ; 
I see nothing to prevent.’ 

“The inexplicable occurrence which had an- 
noyed me in the morning returned to my memory, 
and I said, hesitatingly : 

“ ‘ But if another, more fortunate than myself, 
has already touched her heart ? ’ 


92 Where shall He find Her? 

At this supposition the Baroness raised her 
hands to heaven, exclaiming : 

“ ' Why, sir, there is not, within ten leagues 
around, a man whom a well-born girl could look 
at ; you have not the shadow of a rival ; no one 
frequents here ; for I do not consider some old 
gentlemen in the neighborhood, who sometimes 
dine here, after having been hunting with the 
Baron ; that is, M. de la Tusette, joint lord of 
Piedfourche ; M. de Verdache, noble glass-found- 
er ; M. de Cadarasse, ancient falconer to the 
King ; all very worthy men, and of good nobility, 
I admit, but extremely dull company.’ 

While the Baroness was thus reassuring me, 
I gazed mechanically at an oval frame of most 
exquisite workmanship, in which figured a bad 
engraving, which was altogether unworthy of so 
magnificent a setting, and which represented the 
heroine of Richardson at the moment of flying 
from her father’s house. 

You think they have done too much honor 
to that print } ’ said the Baroness, changing the 
subjedl with her usual volatility, ‘I am alto- 


93 


Where shall He fi^td Herf 

gether of your opinion, although it was I who 
caused it to be placed there. You shall judge 
if I had good reason. The first year of my 
marriage, I was so overcome with ennui that I 
thought I must die of it. The Baron tried every 
means to restore me. Having heard that there 
was an Italian artist going from one castle to 
another in search of employment, he concluded 
to send for him, that he might take my portrait. 
At the same time he wrote to Paris for a beauti- 
ful frame and a box of colors, as I like only pas- 
tel portraits, and would have mine done in no 
other way. The Italian came, at the end of 
three or four months. I was then so nervous 
and weak that I could not stand or take a single 
step. However, out of compliment to the Baron, 
I consented to have my portrait taken ; but, after 
the first sitting, I was obliged to give up the idea. 
My health became so very poor that I found it 
impossible to leave my bed. The first time that 
I was able to leave my room, the Baron brought 
me here, and made me sit down opposite this 
frame, and said -to me in a tone of satisfadlion : 


94 Where shall He find Herf 

“ Our Italian painter only required to see you 
once, in order to set himself to work. Raise 
your eyes, my dear, and tell me if you recognize 
your features in that face.” I uttered a cry : the 
wretch had painted me in oils ; added to which, 
his had been the beautiful idea of dressing me in 
a Turkish or Roman costume, it was impossible 
to tell which, with a yellow drapery instead of a 
dress-waist, and a kind of a turban -around my 
hair, without powder. “ Ah, sir ! ” said I to the 
Baron, “ I could not endure to see myself thus, 
even in a pidlure ; and, with your permission, I 
will have the canvas taken up to the lumber- 
room,” which was accordingly- done. The frame 
remained, and Boinet put this engraving in its 
place. I locked up the box of pastels, hoping 
that some other artist would pass this way. 
But foreign artists seldom pass here now, and 
here am I indefinitely replaced by this Clarissa 
Harlowe.’ 

“ ‘ Perhaps, madame,’ said I, ‘ as I know some- 
thing of drawing, you will permit me to take your 
portrait’ 


Where shall He find Herf 


95 


“ ‘ No, no, I thank you ; the time for that is 
past,’ replied she, with a melancholy vivacity. 
‘To have a portrait painted, one must be young 
like my daughter. It is her portrait which I 
should like to see in this frame.’ 

“ ‘ If she will permit it, I will commence it by 
to-rnorrow,’ said I, charmed with the idea. 

“‘Immediately,’ cried the Baroness: ‘it is 
only necei^ary to inform my daughter.’ 

“And at the same time she beckoned me to fol- 
low her into the little room. M’lle de Malepire 
was standing reading near a library, doubtless 
that of the good man d’Herbelay. On perceiving 
us she quickly threw down her book, not, how- 
ever, unobserved by me. When her mother had 
announced to her my* wish to take her portrait, 
she manifested neither satisfadlion nor displeas- 
ure, and replied briefly, raising nonchalantly the 
long curls of her hair : 

“ ‘ I am ready.’ 

“‘Not at all, mademoiselle!’ cried her mother: 
‘ I wish your hair to be dressed en nymphe, with 
powder and sky-blue ribbons.’ 


96 


Where shall He find Herf 


“‘Yes, mamma,’ replied she with an air of 
resignation. 

“ ‘ Go to your room with Boinet,’ continued the 
Baroness ; ‘ whilst she is dressing you, I will 
make the necessary preparations here.’ 

“ Finding myself alone for an instant, I was 
tempted to cast my eyes on the book which M’lle 
de Malepire had been reading. It was the 
‘Nouvelle H61oYse.’ I immediately remembered 
this sentence in the preface : ‘ She who dares 
read a single page in this book is a lost girl.’ 
Happily, said I to myself, there is no St. Preux 
here. I was too young and too much in love for 
this discovery to create in my • mind any graver 
refledlions, and I put the volume back in its place 
merely regretting that chance had thrown it into 
the hands of Marie de Malepire. 

“ Like all persons who lead a totally idle life, the 
Baroness was excessively a6live on the rare occa- 
sions when she found anything to interest her. 
She herself presided over the arrangement of the 
little room, which she transformed into an artist’s 
studio, and where she had brought the box of 


. Where shall He fi7td Her! 


97 


colors, the leaves of vellum, and all the accessories 
which the Italian painter had before used. Marie 
de Malepire, dressed and decked out as her mo- 
ther had ordered, assisted with an indifferent air 
in all these preparations. When they were ter- 
minated, she remarked to the Baroness, that, as 
the day was .waning, I would not have time even 
to sketch her portrait. 

“ ‘ You ai:e right, my daughter,’ said the latter ; 
‘ furthermore, it is the hour for supper ; ring, I 
pray you, and tell Boinet to serve cakes and fruit.’ 

“ A little table was spread in the drawing-room ; 
hither the supper was brought. That which the 
Baroness dignified. by the name of fruit consist- 
ed of a plate of little yellow peaches, such as 
those with which I was regaled this afternoon 
with great pleasure. M’lle Boinet took them 
alternately on the end of a fork and peeled them 
with a silver-bladed knife and dressed them with 
wine and sugar. The Baroness served me some, 
remarking with a sigh as she did so, that it was 
the only fruit to be obtained there. 

I find them delicious,’ was my reply. 

7 


H i 


98 


Where shall He find Her? 


“ * You are easily suited/ cried she. ‘ They 
would not be eatable if Boinet had not a talent 
for dressing them with Malvoisie wine. In the 
season she also prepares me walnuts in the same 
way. She is a perfedl treasure ; she does every- 
thing so neatly and adroitly as to render her 
services extremely agreeable. I did wish her to 
marry one of the villagers, whom she might have 
civilized in a measure so that I could have made 
valet de cha7nbre ; but she could not make 
up her mind to marry one of these rustics.’ 

“ ‘ Ah, Madame ! that would have done her too 
much honor,’ said Marie de Malepire, with ani- 
mation. ‘ These rustics are freemen, while she 
is in a servile condition.’ 

“ ' Good heavens ! what is the meaning of 
these large words } ’ exclaimed the Baroness, dis- 
dainfully. ‘ Where have you learned this folly, 
my daughter.^ M’lle Boinet has, owing to her 
education and her sentiments, been raised above 
that state which you qualify a servile condition ; 
know also that she would be degrading herself to 
marry any one of inferior intelligence or educa- 


Where shall He find Herf ‘ 99 

tion, like these stupid and ignorant peasants, 
whom you call freemen.’ 

‘‘At this sort of le6lure, M’lle de Malepire 
blushed vividly, and seemed very angry and con- 
fused. I was surprised, that a simple contradic- 
tion should throw her into so violent a temper ; 
but my thoughts went no further. Nevertheless, 
I ought to have understood how great an abyss 
her secret education had put between us. I 
should have been more afraid of the sentiments 
and the convictions which she so often manifested, 
and have foreseen to what they would lead. Yes, I 
should have gone away and renounced forever this 
odious, though charming girl ; perhaps I might 
thus have saved her from a great misfortune, but 
I remained, and her destiny was accomplished.” 


100 


Where shall He find Her ? 


CHAPTER IV. 

The Marquis paused at these words, and raising 
his eyes towards the pastel, he considered with 
-melancholy attention the ravishing face which 
appeared to listen and smile ; then he continued : 
“ I installed myself in my impromptu studio, and 
in three or four days I finished this portrait.” 

“ And you signed it with your initials,” cried 
Dom Geriisac : there is an M and a C at the 
foot of the lattice against the border.” 

“What! you have examined this anonymous 
portrait with so much attention .? ” replied the 
Marquis. “ It is by no means a chef-d' oeuvrel' 

“ No, not exactly,” murmured my good uncle 
with his usual nawetS. 

“ But it was a perfedl likeness, and naturally 
they thought it admirable. You may imagine, 
my dear Thomas, what was passing in my poor 
infatuated heart during the four days that I gazed 


Where shall He find Her? lOi 

on the face whose beauties I so lovingly repro- 
duced. The sittings lasted several hours at a 
time, for the Baroness was excessively impatient 
to see my work finished. As soon as she had 
made her toilette in the morning she came to the 
little, apartment where I was, and made her 
daughter come also, she came robed and with 
her hair arranged as you see it there. She en- 
tered slowly, and seated herself at a distance, and 
arranged the skirt of her dress — threw on me a 
haughty glance — then crossed her beautiful arms, 
and remained immovable in the attitude which I 
had requested. . I then took my crayons, and the 
Baroness said to her, with a comical impatience, 
* Smile, my daughter, do smile!’ Notwithstand- 
ing this injundlion, she remained serious and 
proud ; but soon her countenance changed with- 
out her being aware of it ; her charming head 
inclined with involuntary nonchalance, and she 
fell into a silent reverie, which I was careful not 
to distradt, as it gave to her features their natu- 
ral expression. A soft flame then illuminated 
her limpid eyes, and occasionally she looked at 


I 


102 


Where shall He ji^id Her? 


me involuntarily, with the divine smile which I 
have put upon the lips of this portrait. Two or 
three times during these long sittings I remained 
a few minutes alone with her. Her countenance 
changed then to an expression of cold reserve, as 
if to make me understand that I would displease 
her if I broke the silence. But I was so passion- 
ately in love, and so obstinately hopeful, that all 
these marks of disdain and indifference did not 
dishearten me. I persisted in thinking that my 
tenderness and my attention would at last touch 
the heart of this haughty person, and accustomed 
myself to the thought of marrying her in the 
meantime, as said the Baroness. 

“ The Baron was ignorant that I was doing his 
daughter’s portrait. It was a surprise which Mad- 
ame de Malepire had prepared for him with all 
the discretion of which she was capable. It had 
not been a very difficult matter to keep this little 
secret from him ; whilst I was at work he was at 
the chase, and in the evening he never thought 
of inquiring how I had passed my time during 
the day. 


Where shall He find Herf 103 

“ When my work was completed, it was put in- 
to the frame, and I myself hung it in the drawing- 
room opposite the arm-chair in which the Baron 
took his evening nap. 

“ The same day, at sunset, the Baroness^ had 
the blinds closed, and the •chandelier, which was 
in the centre of the room, lighted. M’lle Boinet 
had despoiled the parterre to form, with garlands 
of leaves, a- colossal charadler, which she at- 
tached to the lower part of the frame. It con- 
sisted of two M’s interlaced and surmounted by 
a colossal heraldic crown. The ingenious indi- 
vidual had already discovered that my name was 
Maximian. 

“ ‘ That is a charming idea,’ said the Baroness, 
delighted. ‘ My daughter, see those initials.’ 

“ ^ They are mine,’ interrupted the latter, as if 
to protest against the interpretation which her 
mother gave. 'This double M signifies Marie 
de Malepire.’ 

" At this very moment the Baron entered ; his 
wife ran to him, and condudled him in triumph 
to the door of the drawing-room. 


104 Where shall He find Herf 

“ ' Ah !’ exclaimed he, perceiving his daughter’s 
portrait. ‘ What a beautiful picture ! What a 
resemblance ! It is admirable.’ 

“ The Baroness enjoyed his surprise for an in- 
stant ; then she said to him, smiling : 

“ ‘ You do not ask tfie name of the artist.’ ■ 

^ True, my dear : I owe him many thanks ; ’ 
replied he good-naturedly. 

“‘Here he is,’ said the Baroness, taking my 
hand and drawing me before him ; ‘ his modesty 
prevents him from showing himself.’ 

“ The old gentleman embraced me with emo- 
tion, and said, with an air of softened gayety : 

“ ‘ We will make an exchange : I give you the 
model, and you leave me the portrait.’ At the 
same time he turned towards his daughter, and 
motioned her to give him her hand, that he 
might put it in mine ; but she drew back, and 
looking down, took refuge behind her mother. • 

“ ‘ You have my promise,’ added the Baron in 
a more serious tone : ‘ that is sufficient.’ 

“The same evening, at supper, the Baron said 
to his wife: ‘You have not forgotten, dear, that 


Where shall He Ji 7 td Her? 105 

to-morrow is St. Lazarus’ Day, the feast-day of 
the country, — Provence } ’ 

“ ‘ I confess, I had given it no thought,’ replied 
she carelessly. 

‘ Many people have already come ; ’ replied 
the Baron. ‘ On my return from the chase, I 
could see from afar the colporteurs and Bohemi- 
ans who usually encamp the night before on the 
meadow. The people of the lower provinces are 
also coming up in crowds ; to-morrow, when the 
people from the surrounding villages have come, 
there will be a great concourse. Formerly,’ said 
he, addressing himself to me, ‘ it was customary 
for the wife or daughter of a lord to open the 
ball with one of the peasant-boys. The Baron- 
ess has abolished this custom, but last year my 
daughter revived it ; she, like her grandmother, 
and great-grandmother, danced with the pea- 
sants. This year, it will be condudled differ- 
ently : to-morrow, we will not go down to the 
village, except for parochial mass.’ 

« ‘ Why, papa, shall we not join the games ’ 

' No, daughter,’ replied he firmly : ‘ the times 


io6 Where shall He fi^id Herf 

have changed, and you cannot reappear in a 
place where you will not have dye respedl paid 
you.’ 

“ ‘ Shall you not very much regret this field-ball 
and this village reunion } ’ added the Baroness, 
with an air of indulgent reproach. ‘ The fine 
dancers, upon my word ! a troup *of rustics all 
hot and perspiring, dressed in clothes warm 
enough for winter, a vest of green stuff, with 
short pantaloons to match, and coarse woollen 
stockings and great iron shoes.’ 

“ ‘ But, mamma, the dress is of no consequence,’ 
cried M’lle de Malepire, with continued indig- 
nation : ‘ the dress is the only coarse part of 
these men. The simplicity of their manners 
is preferable to the affedtations of oiir polite 
society ; and, in spite of the differences which 
shock you so much, one can readily tolerate 
their society.’ 

“ ‘ In the open air it might be tolerable,’ replied 
the Baroness, with a little shrug of her shoulders. 

'' At this moment I remembered the blue silk 
scarf, and said thoughtlessly to the Baron : 'The 


Where shall He find H^rf 


107 


vanquisher at the wrestling will not then receive 
the prize of honor from the hands of M’lle de 
Malepire ?’ 

“ ‘ He will come here afterwards to get it/ 
replied the old gentleman : ^ The Baroness will 
receive him below in the greenroom, — him and 
his cortege. It is a simple affair/ 

Then he rose, and gave his hand to the Baro- 
ness to pass into the drawing-room. I. remained 
behind an instant with M’lle de Malepire. 

“‘To-morrow,’ said I to her in an undertone, 
and in a trembling voice, ‘ to-morrow your mo- 
ther will speak to you, with regard to what has 
been determined on. My happiness depends on 
your answer, as 1 should not be happy without 
your free consent.’ 

“ ‘ She drew back a few paces, and murmured, 
looking fixedly at me meanwhile : 

“ ‘ What ! so soon V 

“ ‘ Pardon, pardon me ! ’ replied I, dismayed. 
The depth of my love justifies me.’ 

“ ‘Would you marry me in spite of myself?’ 
replied she coldly. 


io8 Where shall He find Herf 

“ I only replied by a sign of the head, and look- 
ing at her with an air of passionate desperation. 

“ ‘ Ah ! you will go so far ! ’ exclaimed she, 
starting back : ' well, we shall see.’ 

“ Early the next morning M’lle Boinet came to 
tell me that they were going to church. I found 
the Baroness dressed as if for a royal mass, in a 
robe of India satin and three large plumes in her 
head-dress. Marie de Malepire was also in full 
toilette : she wore a robe of pale blue silk, and a 
little straw hat with long ends of blue ribbon 
floating over her shoulders. When I approached 
to salute her, she appeared so indifferent and 
distrait that I was stunned. I had expedted to 
find her countenance less tranquil. The Baroness 
beckoned me to come to her. ‘ I have said noth- 
ing to her as yet,’ said she to me in a low voice. 
‘ There is is time enough ; let us go.’ 

“ The road to the village was veritably a stair- 
case cut in rock. Madame de Malepire was taken 
over it in a sedan chair, the Baron escorted his 
daughter, and I walked beside them. The whole 
household followed ; that is to say, a dozen valets 


Where shall He find Her? 109 

and servants ; at the head walked M’lle Boinet 
and Choiset the gamekeeper. 

“ There was a crowd before the church. The 
villagers, in holiday attire, formed noisy groups 
around the twin trees which shaded the place ; 
below in the meadows the crowd was not. so dense. 
I remarked that the greater part of the young 
peasants wore the so-called national colors, 
either in their hats or the button-hole of their 
coats. When the Baron and his family appeared 
every eye was turned towards us, and there was a 
moment of silence. The groups fell back slowly 
to let us pass. Some of the old men put their 
hands to their hats, but the greater part dispens- 
ed with this mark of respedl. Notwithstanding 
the recent attack against the prerogatives of the 
nobility, the lordly seat still remained in the par- 
ish church. It was an admirable piece of work- 
manship, in oak wood. The back was very high, 
and surmounted by a dais ornamented with fine 
sculpture. On each panel might be seen the 
escutcheon of the house of Malepire and their 
proud motto in the provincial dialedl; : Fuero un 
degun. 


no Where shall He find Herf 

“ On entering the nave I perceived, against 
one of the pillars, a pi61:ure done in embroidery 
which attracted my attention. It was a votive 
offering. Notwithstanding the insufficiency of 
the means of execution, one could easily recog- 
nize the site and the personages. A funeral pro- 
cession was making a halt at Malepire’s Pass. 
The coffin was on the first projedlion, at the foot 
of a rock ; and the priest w:as extending his hands 
towards heaven, and looking at the young corpse 
which was rising from its shroud. Madame de 
Malepire perceived that I had my eyes fixed on 
this singular piece of workmanship, and came to 
me and said, while looking affedlionately at her 
daughter^ with a spontaneous burst of tender- 
ness, ‘ They were going to bury her alive from 
me.’ 

“ ^ God has restored her to you by a miracle,’ 
replied I, moved at this involuntary emotion ; ‘ and 
this pidlure, doubtless, you had made as a tribute 
of thanks.’ 

“ ‘ It was I who embroidered it with my own 
hands,’ interrupted she ; ^ I worked at it a year.’ 

“ The Baron had ensconced himself in the seat 


Where shall He find Her ? 1 1 1 

of honor between his wife and daughter, and mo- 
tioned to an empty space beside him, which he 
invited me to take. The Baron’s servants knelt 
a little lower down on the border of the foot- 
carpet spread over the flagging. We thus formed 
a distindl group between the sandluary and the 
principal nave, to which the villagers and peasants 
were hastening. Our presence had caused a pro- 
found agitation among that crowd. When the * 
Baroness crossed the church, with a smiling and 
lofty bearing, and her plumes undulating, and the 
heels of her little boots sounding, all faces were 
turned towards her with an expression of malev- 
olent curiosity ; and no sooner had we taken our 
places on the seigniorial seat, than the hostility 
became more manifest. At this unexpected de- 
monstration, the Baroness, who had been tran- 
quilly reading her livre dheureSy raised her head 
with an air of surprise, and said to her daughter, 

‘ What is it they want ’ 

“ ‘ That all should worship God in the same 
rank,’ replied she excitedly. 

“ The Baron turned pale, and looked haughtily 


1 1 2 Where shall He find Her ? 

around him with an expression of annoyance. 
Happily this state of things was not prolonged. 
The priest appeared with his acolytes ; and, when 
they were before the altar, the people knelt in 
silence at the lower part of the church. Some 
of them, however, advanced in good order as far 
as the chancel. There they put themselves in a 
line ; and, after having made a genufledlion, they 
remained standing opposite the seigniorial seat. 

“ * It is their right,’ said the Baron turning to me, 
and speaking in a low tone : ‘ from time imme- 
morial, the abbat or prince of the youths and 
his companions have occupied this place on fete 
days.’ 

“The prince of the youths, or abbat, and his 
suite wore sprigs of green in their hats, and a 
sort of scarf tied crosswise beneath that coarse 
stuff vest which was so revolting to the Barorless. 
They were robust peasants of a swarthy com- 
plexion and athletic form ; the abbat especially 
was a magnificent specimen of muscular power. 
He was of colossal stature, and his accurate fea- 
tures reminded one of the fine obtuse head of an 


Where shall He find Herf 113 

ancient gladiator. This man’s costume differed 
somewhat from that of the peasantry ; yellow 
leather gaiters replaced the woollen stockings, 
and a jacket of striped material, the rest of coarse 
green stuff I remarked all this vaguely. I was 
preoccupied by an inquietude which increased as 
the time for the reading-out of the betrothment 
approached. I waited, in a state of inexpressible 
agitation, the accomplishment of that formality. 
The Baroness was confident of all, notwithstand- 
ing her silence on the subjedl to her daughter ; 
and, from time to time, she turned her eyes to- 
wards me as if to encourage and congratulate me 
% 

on my felicity. At last the priest came forward 
as far as the holy table, with a paper in his hand, 
and read in a loud voice, during a most profound 
silence, ‘ There is a promise of marriage between 
the very high and very excellent Lord Maximian 
de Monville, Count of Champaubert, and the very 
high and very excellent Demoiselle Madeleine 
Marie de Malepire, etc.’ 

“ A murmur rose in the nave ; it was the titles 

and qualifications which excited the indignation 
8 


1 14 Where shall He fiiid Herf 

of the populace, which murmur, however, ceased 
almost ere it had begun. I looked at Marie de 
Malepire ; she had not changed countenance, 
but was very pale, and the slight trembling of her 
hands betrayed the emotion which she tried to 
repress. 

“ ‘ Compose yourself,’ said the Baroness, affec- 
tionately to her : ‘ there is nothing to astonish 
you in this, and still less to afflidt.’ 

“ ‘ I am quiet, madame,’ replied she, in an al- 
tered voice, and turning her head away. 

“ I remarked nothing more, I saw nothing ; 
however, some circumstances occurred which 
might have enlightened me, and made* me know 
that I had a rival. 

“ When mass was over, the Baron said to me, 
as he stood aside to let me pass : 

“‘Now that your marriage has been announced 
in public, pass on, count, and give your arm to 
your jianciel 

“ I made my approach with a palpitating heart. 
M’lle de Malepire put her arm unhesitatingly 
through mine, and thus we crossed the church 


Where shall He find Her ? 1 1 5 

together. The crowd had already passed on and 
awaited us outside. The little band, at the head 
of which was the abbat, advanced ; he drew off 
his hat, and addressed the Baron in the provin- 
cial tongue. 

“ ‘ What does he say ’ asked Madame de 
Malepire, in a whisper, of her daughter. 

‘ He is asking us to attend the games,’ re- 
plied she coldly. 

“‘At a distance, I have no objection,’ replied 
the Baroness : ‘ I have already ordered seats to 
be placed in the parterre, the length of the para- 
pet ; in that situation we can see what is being 
done here as well as if we were nearer ; we must 
also invite this great fellow and his friends to 
come up to the castle and drink a glass of 
wine, and receive the beautiful scarf which you 
have taken the trouble to embroider. It is 
useless for me to tell them so in French : they 
would not understand me. Do you speak to 
them, my darling, and explain the thing in pro- 
vincial.’ 

“ ‘ It has already been done,’ replied she : ‘ my 


Ii6 Where shall He find Hcrf 

father has just announced to them that you will 
receive them this evening.’ 

“ ' Let us get out of this crowd as quickly as 
possible,’ cried the Baroness, reentering her 
sedan chair : ^ we shall be suffocated.’ 

In truth, we were squeezed and elbowed in an 
incommodious manner ; the crowd became al- 
most insolent ; they barred the passage-way, 
and threw themselves tumultuously before us. 
However, there were as yet no cries or any other 
annoying manifestations. 

“ ‘ I will take the lead,’ said the Baron to me : 
‘ escort my daughter.’ 

“1 passed M’lle de Malepire’s arm through 
mine, that we might better make our way 
through the crowd ; but she abruptly disen- 
gaged herself, and . turning towards the abbat, 
said to him, as if putting herself under his pro- 
tedlion : ‘ Pinatel, pass before us.’ 

“ The colossus obeyed : he breasted the multi- 
tude, pushing and hooting all those before him, 
and thus opened a passage for us. When we 
were outside the green, he faced about without 


Where shall He find Her? 117 

saying a word, and went and rejoined his com- 
panions. 

“In silence we took the road to the castle ; 
Marie de Malepire went ahead of all of us, and 
the Baron walked near me with a serious and 
agitated air. 

“ ‘ Y ou saw,’ said he to me, at last, ‘ you saw 
the disposition of those people ; we have been 
all but insulted ; who knows how far this thing 
may go } It is quite time that the King admon- 
ishes, when his nobility are exposed to a con- 
flidl with the peasantry. Meanwhile, I shall take 
measures for our safety ; we will no longer go 
down to the village.’ 

“ ^ I am quite of your opinion,’ interrupted the 
Baroness, putting her head out of the sedan 
chair. ‘ We will remain at home, and have our 
daughter married in the chapel of the chateau. 
Do you know, Baron, that Boinet heard the peo- 
ple behind her sa)^ that in all other parishes the 
seigniorial seat had been abolished you will per- 
haps be obliged to have yours removed.’ 

“ ‘ Never,’ cried he. ‘ I have unhesitatingly 


1 1 8 Where shall He find Her f 

renounced all useful rights, such as the quit-rents, 
champerty, thirlage, weighing, reliefs, dues on 
sales of inheritance. All these have been abol- 
ished ; but I shall not so abandon honorary rights, 
and violence alone can despoil me of them.’ 

“ On entering the house, I tried to speak to 
M’lle de Malepire ; but she obstinately avoided 
an interview. In the afternoon, however, I suc- 
ceeded in retaining her a moment, just as we 
were descending to the parterre ; and I said to 
her, in a penetrating tone : 

‘ Ah, mademoiselle ! will you not pardon my 
happiness } Alas ! what must I do to touch your 
heart, to render myself worthy of your choice } 
If you knew the depth of my love, your heart 
perhaps would not be so slow in responding to it.’ 

And, as she hastened on without answering 
me, I added : ‘ Suffer me to speak to you of my 
sentiments ; you are free to do so, now that you 
see in me a betrothed lover.’ 

“ ‘ Say a marrying man,’ interrupted she, with 
an accent of bitter raillery. 

“ I was reminded of the ‘ Nouvelle Heloi'se,’ and 


Where shall He find Herf 119 

that letter in which the sensual and pedantic 
daughter of the Baron d’Etange thus qualifies 
the two suitors whom she disdains. A new sus- 
picion crossed my mind ; and I cried, transported 
with a vague and furious jealousy : 

“ ^ Who, then, is the St. Preux to whom you 
thus sacrifice me } ’ 

You shall soon know,’ replied she boldly; 
And, without adding another word, she hastened 
to the parterre. 

“ I avow, that the thought -of renouncing her 
had not'so much as presented itself to my mind. 
I loved her with a love too violent and too ego- 
tistical not to dispute it even with a fortunate 
rival, and had begun to think without fear or 
scruple of a forced marriage. The passion which 
animated me was ungovernable. I resolved to 
speak to the Baron that very evening. , It was 
only necessary to draw up the contradl by the 
next day, and in three days I might marry 
her. I formed all these plans and resolu- 
tions, seated on the parapet beside the Baro- 
ness, and looking at what was passing on the 


120 Where shall He find Her ! 

village green. The spe61:acle was sufficiently 
confused : there was hardly any one on the 
meadow, and the crowd pressed tumultuously 
around an inclosure formed by cords attached to 
stakes firmly planted in the ground. At one of 
the extremities of this list rose a pole, at the top 
of which glittered a pewter plate highly polished, 
and shining like a great mirror for skylarks ; and 
at the opposite extremity a drum and a hurdy- 
gurdy formed the orchestra, and discoursed the 
most discordant sounds that human ears ever 
heard. Marie de Malepire, seated near her 
mother, kept her eyes fixed on this scene. I 
observed it with a feeling of inexplicable tender- 
ness, grief, and sombre jealousy ; she affedled an 
attitude calm and assured ; but her countenance 
and the feverish brilliancy of her complexion 
betrayed her secret agitation. 

“ ‘ Do look, count,’ said the Baroness to me : 
‘ the games have commenced.’ 

“Two men, almost entirely destitute of clothing, 
entered the lists and commenced wrestling ; one 
was quickly floored, and retired in silence ; the 


Where shall He find Her ‘I 12 1 

other remained standing and awaiting another 
adversary, who in turn remained master of the 
field, and was quickly vanquished by a new cham- 
pion. During an hour the wrestlers succeeded 
each other in this manner in the centre of the 
arena, and rolled in the dust one after the other 
amid the applause or the hisses of the crowd 
according as they had done well or ill. 

“ Since the commencement of this tournament, 
the Baroness had turned to me, saying, with a 
slight yawn: ^ You must admit that this, is 
somewhat monotonous, especially when one 
knows beforehand^ who is to be the vanquisher. 
The abbat will end by flooring them all, as he 
did last year.’ 

“ ‘ He is a prodigiously strong fellow and a fine 
poacher,’ added the Baron; * Had he been of the 
work-people I should have offered him the living 
after Choiset, and some little employment in my 
woods as a subsistence meanwhile.’ 

‘‘ A moment after, the Baroness replied, ‘ Deci- 
dedly, it is refined, this combat of fist-blows ; let 
us take a tour in the parterre.’ 


122 Where shall He find Herf 

I think I have already said that the parterre 
was a platform supported by the ramparts, and 
surrounded by slender elms, between which 
wound little paths bordered by woods. This 
miniature Babylonian garden extended before the 
modern fagade of the chateau, which rested On 
the old construdlion restored and rejuvenated by 
a uniform tint of paint. At one of the angles 
of this part of the building, which was entirely 
occupied by the apartments of the Baroness, 
there was a little tower which came out be- 
yond the ramparts, and overlooked the preci- 
pice, whose green depths were level with the 
plain. In olden times, this tower had been 
called the observatory ; and, when the country 
was disturbed, a sentinel was placed in this 
pradlical little cell at the summit, to signalize 
the approach of the enemy. At a later date the 
sentinel’s box had been replaced by a slanting 
roof, and a window had been cut in the first 
story, from which was suspended a stone bal- 
cony tapestried with briars and blackish moss. 
Marie de Malepire’s apartment was in this old 


WJiei'e shall He fijid Her? 123 

tower. The Baroness stopped, and, pointing 
with a little gold-headed cane, which she car- 
ried in her hand, said : • 

“ ‘ I cannot look out of that window without 
having a vertigo. My daughter has less sensi- 
tive nerves : often, at evening, I have found her 
dreaming by the light of the moon, and leaning 
her elbows on that swallow’s-nest’ 

“ I advanced my head outside of the parapet to 
measure, by my eye, the prodigious height of the 
wall, and I murmured : ^ Assuredly, if there were 
a Lindor here, he could not come and sing loud 
enough to be heard under Rosina’s balcony.’ 

“ A little • before sunset the acclamations be- 
came louder as they rose from the green, and we 
saw that the metal plate had disappeared from 
the top of the pole. 

‘ It is over,’ said the Baroness, looking through 
the folds of her fan ; * the conqueror is crowned ; 
he comes with his cortege ; they are coming 
here ; let us enter.’ 

“ Daylight faded rapidly ; but the villagers had 
lighted their torches of resinous wood, which 


124 Where shall He find Her? 

they held in their hands, and from which the 
fitful glare formed an illumination of a most 
singular effe6l. We could perceive, from the 
drawing - room windows, groups which were 
marching through the village to the beating of 
a drum, and singing patriotic refrains, and girls 
and boys dancing in cadence on the green. 

“A moment after, Choiset, the gamekeeper, 
arrived. 

“ ' Here is the abbat,’ said he hastily, ‘ and a 
great many people with him. I come to take 
orders from the Baron.’ 

‘‘ ‘ You are to permit only him and his twelve 
guard of honor to enter ; and if the others are 
troublesome, and attempt to force the passage, 
execute my previous orders.’ 

“ ‘ Come,’ said the Baroness gayly, ‘ let us give 
audience to these gallant shepherds. Your arm, 
Baron ; my daughter, follow us.’ 

“ M’lle de Malepire advanced, and carried the 
scarf unfolded. It appeared to me that she was 
pale, and that her hands trembled. All three 
descended ; I did not follow them. This sort of 


Wlm'e shall He find Herf 


125 


ceremony displeased me, and I did not wish to 
witness the putting on of the scarf. I remained 
alone in the drawing-room, standing against one 
of the windows and looking absently before me. 
The sky was without either star or moonlight ; 
the obscurity in the parterre was most profound ; 
and the evening wind moaned sadly through the 
trees. I leaned my head on my brands, and fell 
into a melancholy reverie, and began to repent of 
my implacable resolutions. The only avowal 
which M’lle de Malepire had let escape had 
thrown me into a transport of jealousy akin to 
hate. Then, as I commented on the cruel words 
which had come from her lips, I commenced to 
persuade myself not to believe it, that it was a 
threat, a falsehood, and that I had no rival. This 
certitude acquired, I excused all : I pardoned her 
coldness- and disdain, which I felt was killing me. 
I was ready to kneel to this haughty girl, and 
tell her I adored her, and would continue to do 
so without recompense, if it was her will, her 
caprice. Whilst I was abandoning myself to 
these alternatives of hatred and tenderness, I 


126 Where shall He find Herf 

saw a shadow pass slowly under the window and 
follow the wall, like one who gropes his way 
feeling for a door or something to take hold of. 
Although the fa6t itself was nothing very notice- 
able, I followed this vague shadow with my eyes ; 
but the darkness was so great that it disappeared 
before I could note which diredtion it took. An 
instant after, the Baroness’s little dog jumped up, 
and commenced growling ; I turned around ; the 
door of the room which had served me as a studio 
was partly open, and I thought I could distinguish 
the sound of a stealthy footstep on the oaken 
floor. This convidlion was so acute that I cried 
out, ‘ Who goes there ? ’ There was no answer, 
then I took a light and entered the little studio ; 
the dog followed closely, and barked ; there was 
no one there, absolutely no one, but the door 
beyond was just closed, doubtless by the wind. 
This door was that of a passage which led to 
the turret ; I walked straight ahead, raising the 
torch, and entered the apartment belonging to 
M’lle de Malepire. It was a small room with- 
out angles or recesses. I surveyed it at a glance ; 


12 / 


Where shall He find Herf 

there was no way to get out of it, or into it, ex- 
cept through the door on the sill of which the 
little dog' had stopped, all trembling with fear. 
The bed had neither curtains or valence, and 
was simply spread with a white coverlid. A 
heavy brocatel curtain was drawn before the 
window ; and on the chimney-piece, which was 
diredlly opposite the door, there was an antique 
mirror, at the base of which I remarked that 
ugly little wooden figure which the Baron had 
found in his game-pouch. This examination 
lasted but half a minute ; I went out again, and 
closed the door behind me, and returned to the 
drawing-room, without noticing the fury of Car- 
lin, who barked himself hoarse in the paissage-way. 

Almost immediately the Baroness came up 
stairs with her daughter. ^ I am overcome,’ 
cried she, throwing herself into her arm-chair ; 
‘ M’lle Boinet, quick, quick, give me my smelling 
salts ; I have laughed so much that I am suffo- 
cated.’ 

'' ' Then the reception was very pleasant } ’ 
cried I. 


128 


Where shall He fi7id Her? 


“ ‘ Wait, wait : you shall hear,’ replied shre, 
overcome with a accession of gayety. ‘Figure to 
yourself the abbat and his cortege awaiting us 
in the greenroom, hats. off, and with a respedlful 
countenance, as was very proper ; when my daugh- 
ter came forward, this great fellow went down on 
one knee in the most gallant manner imaginable, 
to receive the scarf, which she tied crosswise, 
while the others applauded with a frightful noise. 
At last silence was restored. Then the abbat 
rose, and delivered a little address to me, during 
which I looked at him : that man is a giant ; I do 
believe the top of my plumes would only reach 
his elbow. When he had concluded his haran- 
gue I turned to the Baron, who gave me his hand ; 
and I said to him in a loud voice : Baron, I 
pray you tender my acknowledgments to this 
young man ; not knowing the Provencial, I have 
not understood his discourse ; but I am not the 
less charmed with his sentiments.’ 

“‘But, madame, he spoke to you in French, 
cried the Baron. At this explanation I was • 
overcome with laughter, and a quarter of an 


129 


Where shall He fi7id Herf 

hour trying to recover myself behind my fan. 
So far everything has gone on very well ; wine 
flowed liberally, and ratafia for these worthy 
men. They drank our health innumerable times, 
and, as far as I can judge, retired feeling very 
happy.’ 

“ The Baron entered an instant after. 

There is any number of people below on 
the road,’ said he to his wife, ‘all of whom 
seem inclined to come up here', but they certainly 
shall not enter, and we can at least sleep quietly 
to-night ; I have just had the drawbridge raised.’ 

“ ‘ Here we are all prisoners,’ replied the 
Baroness jokingly : ‘ no one can come in or go 
out without your permission.’ 

“ We passed immediately to the table. Marie 
de Malepire’s countenance was both animated and 
absent-minded : she took part in the conversa- 
tion with unusual vivacity, which struck me. I 
had never seen her so before ; and I observed, 
with a secret uneasiness, the effort which she 
made to appear natural and tranquil. 

Immediately after supper she retired, owing to 
9 


130 Where shall He find Herf 

the fatigues of the day. The Baron dozed in the 
corner of the sofa, and I commenced with the 
Baroness one of those games of cards which she 
so willingly prolonged until midnight. 

“ At about eleven o’clock, Boinet entered, look- 
ing very much frightened. 

I do not know what is going on,’ said she : 
'there is a great tumult outside. Here, you 
hear nothing of it ; but, if Monsieur the Baron 
would go down to the courtyard, perhaps he 
could discover the cause of all this noise.’ 

“ ‘ It is perhaps a serenade that they are giving 
us,’ said the Baroness, tranquilly mixing the 
cards. 

“ ‘ I will go and see,’ cried the Baron, rising 
with a start : ' Remain here, Champaubert ; there 
is no necessity for interrupting your game.’ 

"He had hardly left us, when we heard the 
great church clock sounding with all its force. 

" ‘ It is the tocsin,’ cried I. 

“ ' There must be a fire somewhere,’ replied 
the Baroness : ' such misfortunes are frequent 
here ; the houses being built of wood, and 


Where shall He find Herf 13 1 

thatched with straw. On days of public re- 
joicing, there is almost always some incendiary 
termination, because each one makes a great fire 
on his hearth in order to regale his friends with 
fritters fried in nut oil.’ 

‘ In such a case, we should be able to see the 
flames here,’ said I, rising to look out of the 
window. 

“The most profound obscurity covered the 
heavens and the earth ; the atmosphere was 
hazy ; one would have thought that a storm 
was brewing on these elevated plateaux. It was 
impossible to distinguish the situation of the 
village otherwise than by the lugubrious sounds 
which proceeded from it ; and one could distin- 
guish nothing, through the opaque shadows of 
the night, but a multitude of luminous points 
which moved in the same diredlion. These 
were the resinous torches carried by the peas- 
ants ; and evidently a large number were coming 
towards the castle. I was observing all these 
things with a certain anxiety, when the Baron 
returned hurriedly to the drawing-room. He 


132 Where shall He find Her? 

had one of those heavy guns in his hand, such 
as were formerly used in the sieges. 

“ ‘ It is a sedition, and attack of armed men,’ 
said he to us, with a sang-froid mingled with 
rage. ^ There are perhaps four or five hundred 
shouting and yelling on the edge of the moat, 
and opposite the door.’ 

“ ‘ What do they want .^’ exclaimed the Baron- 
ess, without very much emotion. 

“ ‘ Who knows ? ’ replied the Baron. ^ Choiset 
appeared at the grating to speak to them ; but 
they only cried the more furiously. Instead of 
expressing their griefs, if they have any, they 
continued to cry: “Theabbat! the abbat!” as 
though we had him here a prisoner. Some of 
them have guns ; but the greater part are 
unarmed, except with pickaxes and socks of 
ploughshares. There is not much danger of 
their taking us with these means of assault. I 
fear but one thing, and that is, that they have 
the idea of entering on this side, by the postern.’ 

' But is the thing possible ? ’ asked the Bar- 
oness, commencing to feel uneasy. 


Where shall He find Herf 133 

“ He nodded affirmatively, and cried with an 
imprecation : 

“ ^ I myself will defend this passage. The first 
who shows himself I will shoot down as I would 
a dog, and all in the same manner one after 
another, as they come.’ 

“ ‘ Ah ! mon Dieu ! mon Dieu ! ’ exclaimed the 
Baroness, raising her hands to heaven. ‘And 
my daughter ! ’ 

“ ‘ You will go and bring her here,’ replied the 
Baron. ‘It is from the balcony of her room 
that I am going to observe the approach to the 
postern.’ 

“ ‘ Can I do nothing } ’ I asked him. 

“ ‘ Come with me,’ replied he briefly. 

“ The Baroness took a light ; we followed her 
into the little studio which preceded her daugh- 
ter’s room. 

“ ‘ She has been asleep a long time, and her 
door is closed,’ said she, drawing a key from her 
pocket. ‘ But here is my pass-key ; I often en- 
ter her room in this manner, to look at her as 
she sleeps.’ 


134 


Where shall He find Herf 


“ She passed into the corridor ; at the same 
instant a gust of air made the candle flicker, 
which she had just put on the table, and shook 
the window-curtain. 

“ ^ Who has opened this passage } ’ cried the 
Baron, turning round astonished, and looking at 
one of the panels in the wainscoting which was 
partly raised. ‘ It is a secret passage which has 
been closed for years.’ 

‘‘ ^ Does it lead to the parterre "i ’ asked I, con- 
nedling the incident with the fa6t which had so 
startled me. 

The Baroness had just opened her daughter’s 
room ; she entered, and uttered a loud cry. There 
was a man in her daughter’s room, and that man 
was the abbat ! ! ! 

‘‘ Marie de Malepire stood with her arms ex- 
tended, as if wishing to form a rampart to shield 
this giant, who stood immovable, like one petri- 
fied, in the middle of the room. 

“ ‘ Save yourself ! Save yourself ! ’ cried she, 
pointing to the door with an energetic gesture. 

I threw myself forward to bar the passage. 


Where shall He find Her? 


135 


At the same time the Baron fired his gun ; the 
ball passed through the abbat’s hair, and struck 
the frame of the mirror there at the top* where 
you see that indentation.” 


136 . Where shall He find Herf 


CHAPTER V. 

“I HAVE always thought that ’twas some pro- 
je 6 lile that had done all that damage,” murmured 
Dom Gerusac, tapping his snufF-box. 

“Twas she whom her father should liave 
killed,” said I, transported with a secret fury. 

“All I have just related to you was accom- 
plished in less than a minute,” continued M. de 
Champaubert. “ The abbat had the presence of 
mind to throw himself into the passage ; he 
passed literally over our bodies, and escaped. I 
rose up, seized with a vertigo. I was like a man 
who had rolled down a precipice, and whose facul- 
ties are momentarily suspended. In truth, I do 
not know how I can recall the scene of which I 
was then a mute witness. When the abbat had 
disappeared, there was a brief silence. The Bar- 
oness had dropped into a seat, and was hiding 
her face in her handkerchief; Marie de Male- 


Where shall He fi^id Her? 137 

pire leaned one hand against the mantel-piece ; 
she was very pale, but she neither lowered her 
head nor her gaze. 

“ ‘ Did this man enter here without your 
knowledge ? ’ asked the Baron, at last, in a 
hoarse voice. 

“ ‘ No, sir,’ replied she intrepidly : ‘ the moment 
to avow all has arrived, — to declare all the senti- 
ments of my heart ; I will do it courageously.’ 

“ Her audacity wavered, however ; and it was 
in a less assured tone, and with an involuntary 
lowering of her glance, that she added : 

“ ‘ I have given my heart and my love to a man 
who, in the eyes of the world, is not my equal.’ 

“ ‘ This peasant, — ^you love him ^ ’ interrogated 
the Baron violently. 

“ ‘ Yes,’ replied she ; ^ and nothing can separate 
us. We are united, — he is my lover ; I am 
his.’ 

“ ‘ ’Tis false ! ’Tis false ! Do not believe it !’ 
cried the Baroness, suddenly coming out of her 
stupor, and throwing herself between the father 
and daughter ; ‘ this is a moment of delirium, of 


38 


Where shall He find Herf 


folly. Can .what she has declared be possible } 
how can it have happened } when could she have 
been seduced } It cannot be true ; she has lied ; 
she does not even know this man.’ 

“ ‘ I have said the truth/ said M’lle de Male- 
pire, raising her eyes to heaven with a strange 
burst of enthusiasm and passion : ' I love this 
young man because he possesses all the virtues 
of his humble condition, — simplicity, honesty, 
morality. Yes, I love him/ continued she ex- 
citedly ; ^ poverty, with him, is not appalling to 
me. His robust arms are accustomed to work. 
I shall partake of the bread which he gains labo- 
riously. When I caused him to enter here this 
evening, it was to tell him that I had resolved to 
fly with him this very night. It is because you 
would force me to marry against my will, that I 
have had recourse to such an extremity. It was 
to prevent so frightful a misfortune that I put 
myself under his protedlion.’ 

“ ‘ She is mad ; my poor child is mad,’ cried 
the Baroness, with the wildness of despair. 

“ The Baron turned towards me and said, with 


Where shall He find Her? 139 

a composure more frightful than the most violent 
burst of rage : 

' I will kill the wretch.’ 

“ ‘ And who would honor me t ’ cried Marie de 
Malepire, with a savage energy ; ‘ who would 
make of a guilty girl an honest woman } ’ 

“ The old noble raised his hand as if to strike 
her face, and brand it forever ; but he did not 
touch it. 

“ ‘ Go, he may marry you ; tell him so ; go, 
follow him. Y ou are no longer my daughter : I 
renounce you. Cursed be the day that you were 
born ; cursed be the hour that God raised you 
from the dead ; cursed be the life that awaits 
you here and hereafter ! ’ 

“‘You will pardon me one day,’ murmured 
Marie de Malepire, bowing her head. 

“ These were the last words I ever heard her 
speak. The Baron extended his hand towards 
me as if for support. ‘Come,’ said he to me. 
Before leaving, I turned my eyes towards her. 
It was the last time I ever saw her. 

“ What a night ! All within me was crushed. 


140 Where shall He fi^id Herf 

and I found a morbid consolation in bleeding my 
mortally wounded heart. I exaggerated to myself, 
if possible, the contempt with which M’lle de 
Malepire had repaid my ’ tenderness, and the 
senseless passion ^to which she had just sacrificed 
all In the excess of my indignation and despair, 
my vengeance would have perhaps exceeded that 
of her father, had it been mine to decide her des- 
tiny. Perhaps I should now have a crime with 
which to reproach myself ; my love was too great 
not to be implacable. 

“ The Baron had followed me into my room ; his 
grief was dark and silent ; he walked mechani- 
cally up and down, and sometimes approached 
the window, as if to take breath. There was no 
longer any noise to be heard ; outside, evidently 
some unexpebled circumstance had quelled the 
popular tumult, and the peasantry no longer 
besieged the castle door. 

“About midnight, Choiset entered with a coun- 
tenance expressive of consternation. ‘ May Mon- 
sieur pardon this liberty,’ said he, hesitating : 
“ I came to tell you that Madame the Baroness 


Where shall He find Her? 14 1 

is very ill ; we have just taken hpr up like one 
dead ; she has just now begun to return to con- 
sciousness, and has gone to her room.’ 

“ ‘ Alone } ’ asked the Baron. 

“ ‘ With M’lle Boinet,’ replied the old game- 
keeper in an altered voice ; and, turning his head 
away, left the room. 

“ We went down stairs. On perceiving us the 
Baroness came, and threw herself before her hus- 
band, sobbing convulsively. 

“ ‘ She has gone ; I could not retain her,’ cried 
she ; ‘ but I shall not thus abandon her. Hus- 
band, you will have compassion on the poor mis- 
led girl ; you will permit me to follow her ; it -is 
my duty; I must snatch her from that miserable 
ravisher ; the moment will come when she will 
be horrified at her fault ; then I will bring her 
back ; I will hide her in the depths of some 
convent ; I will shut myself in with her. Reli- 
gion teaches us to be merciful ; according to its 
holy teachings, the greatest crimes have been 
wiped out by a long repentance.’ 

“ ' Repentance effaces a crime before God, but 


142 Where shall He find Herf 

the dishonor remains before the world. We are 
of a blood and rank which cannot forget it.’ 

“ The poor lady continued to entreat with a 
vehement grief, and in accents which made me 
shudder, because they so well expressed the 
agony of my own heart. The Baron was in- 
flexible. 

“ ‘ Nothing can wipe out. our shame, nor exempt 
us from this outr3,ge,’ said he ; ‘ now the wretch- 
ed girl must marry her lover.’ 

“ Thus passed the remainder of the night ; and 
daybreak found us all three still in the same 
place, pale; bowed down, and annihilated, as it 
were. Was it that passion had already con- 
sumed the strength of my being, or that, during 
these last and terrible scenes, I had most suf- 
fered, I fell suddenly into a state of physical 
debility, which greatly alarmed those who sur- 
rounded me. The malady increased with fright- 
ful rapidity, and by the next day I was in danger 
of death. I have but a confused recolledfion of 
what then passed around me. I only know, that, 
during the hallucinations of the fever, I imagined 


Where shall He find Herf 143 

myself a young child who was dead. It appeared 
to me that I had been put into a coffin, and was 
being carried to the tomb, and that funeral chants 
were sung, then the mournful procession stopped 
at Malepire’s Pass, and that then, leaving my 
shroud, I saw the brightness of heaven. These 
scenes of my death and resurrection were re- 
newed without ceasing in my troubled imagina- 
tion, and I passed alternately, from a complete 
prostration to a vehement • agitation. At last 
life triumphed. The crisis was past. A day 
came when I no longer closed my eyes ; and I 
arose, like Lazarus, and my feeble vision rested 
on a woman seated at my bedside. It was the 
Baroness, but I did not recognize her at first 
because she wore neither fSpuge or patches. The 
Baron was there also ; both had watched at my 
bedside night and day, and it was to their cares 
that I owed my life. My illness had lasted six 
weeks ; and several times the physician, whom 
they had brought from D— — , had declared that 
I would not live till the next day. This physi- 
cian was a sagacious and observant little old 


144 


Where shall He find Herf 


man. He had not mistaken the cause of my 
malady ; and, as soon as I commenced to recover 
my memory and a sense of my situation, he said 
before me to the Baroness : 

“ ^ The air of these mountains is too strong for 
a convalescent ; nor must we forget that the 
winter season lasts here eight months of the 
year, and that very soon the snow will have ren- 
dered the roads impassable. My opinion is that 
M. de Champaubert had better hasten his de- 
parture, despite his weak state, and I engage 
he will endure the journey ; if he cannot go on 
horseback well, we will carry him in a litter.’ 

“ I was agitated by a feeble trembling : the 
effort which I had just made to rise had ex- 
ceeded my strength, and my ideas again com- 
menced to be confused. 

“ ‘ Yes, do6lor,’ murmured I : ‘ you will accom- 
pany me ; we will repose on the snow at the 
Pass of Malepire ; they will leave me there.’ 

“‘No, no : you will go on further,’ interrupted 
the dodlor ; ‘ you will go home to your father, 
who is waiting for you.’ 


Where shall He find Herf 


145 


“ ‘ My father/ said I, softened at this remem- 
brance : ‘ does he know that I am ill ? has he 
heard of it ? ’ Madame de Malepire looked un- 
easily at the dodlor, as if hesitating to answer 
me. 

“ ‘ Tell him all, madame,’ cried the latter : 

‘ speak to him of the letter which the Baron has 
received.’ 

“ ‘ A few lines only,’ said she, leaning towards 
me. ‘ It is your father who has written ; he is 
in good health and safety, thank heaven ! but 
horrible things have happened him.’ 

“ The Baron entered at this moment, and it was 
he who recounted to me the fatal days of the 
5th and 6th of Odlober. My father had taken 
part in all those events : after having accom- 
panied the royal family to Paris, and ran great 
dangers in so doing, he had returned home for 
a few hours, and by the next day exiled himself 
voluntarily, having emigrated. It was at Turin 
that I was to find him. 

“ The physician had hoped that this fatal news • 
would divert me from the fixed idea which was 


10 


46 


Where shall He find Her? 


killing me. In fa6l, the shock which my mind 
had just received turned my thoughts from my 
own sufferings, and gave me a sudden energy. 
I arose, and leaned my elbow on my pillow, that I 
might better hear the reading of the public 
papers which the B^-ron had received at the 
same time with my father’s letter. The relating 
of horrible scenes, of which he gave all the 
details, absorbed my entire attention. For a 
quarter of an hour I forgot where I was, and 
what grief had made of me. I forgot Marie de 
Malepire ; but, before the Baron had concluded 
his reading, my eyes fell unfortunately upon a 
little green sprig which was growing on the win- 
dow-sill. It was a sprig of geranium that Marie 
de Malepire had put one afternoon in her cor- 
sage, and of which I had taken possession when 
she had thrown it, all withered and broken, in a 
corner of the drawing-room. This diminutive 
twig had taken root ; and its little leaves, of a 
tender green, had commenced to sprout from 
the vase where I had put it, like a precious plant. 
At this sight, my burning head dropped upon 


Where shall He fi 7 id Her? 147 

the pillow, and I fell into a bitter reverie. The 
Baron continued to read ; but it was not what I 
heard which kindled in my veins a fever of in- 
dignation and grief 

“The dodlor perceived this sudden relapse. 
‘ Come, sir,’ said he to me abruptly : ^ you must 
leave to-morrow.’ 

“ The same evening the Baroness was alone at 
my bedside. I know not with what expression I 
then looked at her, as I thought of one whom 
I never more wished to name ; but the poor 
mother burst into tears, and said to me, in a low 
voice, — 

“ ‘ I weep for her as one dead. ’ 

“ There was no .farther explanation between us. 
The wound which my heart had received was so 
deep and so acute, that I was fearful of awaken- 
ing in myself new griefs by touching it. It 
appeared to me that there were things which I 
Could not hear mentioned without dying. 

“About midnight the Baron and his wife 
retired, after having affedlionately pressed my 
hand. M’lle Boinet came to me, and bid me good- 


148 Where shall He find Her? 

night, with a sad expression which was not usual 
with her. 

‘‘ ‘ To-morrow,’ said I mechanically to her. She 
put her handkerchief to her eyes, and went out 
without making any reply. 

“ I remained alone with the servant who sat 
with me that night. Until then the Baron had 
slept in my room, not being willing to trust any 
one else with the care which my situation requir- 
ed. The good, rough girl had installed herself 
near my bed, her hands crossed over her neck- 
handkerchief; and, as if she perceived that I was 
not asleep, she commenced, in her patois, a species 
of unintelligible monologue. It appeared to me 
that she was deploring my approaching departure, 
and that of her master and mistress. This nasal 
humming ended by lulling me to sleep. My 
tired and burning eyes closed ; and, for the first 
time in a long while, I slept several hours in suc- 
cession a profound slumber. 

“ When I awoke it was bright daylight, and the 
joyous rays of the rising sun penetrated all parts 
of my room, of which the door and window were 


Where shall He find Herf 149 

wide open. Already the dodtor was near my 
bed. 

“ ‘ Come, come ! ’ said he gayly to me, ‘you are 
much better ; we must profit by this splendid 
day, and take our departure in an hour.’ 

“ I permitted myself to be dressed like a child, 
and, taking the dodtor’s arm, tried to take several 
steps ; but so weak was I, that I could not even 
get as far as the door. 

“ ‘ Do not allow yourself to be discouraged,’ said 
he to me, condudling me to a fautenil. ‘ I have 
prepared you a good litter, trimmed with curtains ; 
once there, and you will do marvellously. It is 
at the foot of the stairs ; if you cannot walk so 
far, you can be carried there.’ 

“ ‘ I should first prefer to go and take leave of 
the Baron and Baroness,’ said I to him, with 
dolorous emotion. 

“ ‘ They have spared you these painful adieux : 
it would have been an additional pain and grief 
which you are hardly in a state to support. For 
several days all has been ready for their depart- 
ure. They were waiting only until you should 


150 Where shall He find Herf 

be out of danger, and last night they left the 
castle.’ 

‘ For how long ? ’ inquired I, trembling at this 
news. 

“ ' Forever, perhaps,’ replied the physician sor- 
rowfully. ^ They will emigrate.’ 

They laid me almost fainting in the litter ; and 
I let myself be carried like an inert thing, with- 
out asking where they were taking me, and with- 
out casting a single look behind. The do6lor 
accompanied me on horseback. When we had 
gone as far as Malepire’s Pass, he alighted, and 
came and opened the curtains of my litter. The 
fresh air had revived me. I raised my head, and 
glanced at the melancholy landscape before me. 
The shadow of the rocks had already lengthened 
as far as the border of the gorge, and the yellow 
leaves fell along the road. A bird hopped upon 
the stone where had once rested the coffin of 
Marie de Malepire, and its little joyous cry 
mingled with the hollow rumbling of the waters. 
At this sight I hid my face in my handkerchief 
with a moan. 


Where shall He fiitd Her? 15 1 

“ The do6lor leaned over to me. ‘ How do you 
find yourself.?’ inquired he uneasily. 

“I pressed his hand, which sought mine, and 
motioned him to close the curtain. The sight 
of these places gave me a vertigo; a horrible 
temptation seized my brain ; I felt an irresistible 
desire to throw myself into this abyss, and rest 
forever under the cold waters of the torrent. 
This delirium ceased, when, arriving on the slop- 
ing side of the mountain, I felt on my face the 
warm southerly air which was grateful to my 
benumbed limbs. It was thus that I left the 
places where I had experienced, in a few days, 
all that the human heart can suffer. 

“ Eight days later I arrived at Turin, where I 
again met my father. The physician had accom- 
panied me thus far, but he had to return imme- 
diately to his little town. This separation 
afllidted me much : I had become attached to 
him as to an old friertd, whose science and dis- 
creet penetration had efficaciously succored me, 
and to which I owed my recovery. Another 
bizari'e motive, which I would hardly confess to 


152 


Where shall He find Herf 


myself, made me also regret his presence. He 
knew one who had left in my heart an imperish- 
able sotiveitir^ and he could have spoken to me 
of her. At the moment when he was about to 
leave us, I had a cowardly return of passion and 
woful tenderness ; and I said to him in a stifled 
voice, as I took him aside, ‘Who knows what 
.has become of the unfortunate girl } Inform your- 
self of her situation, I beseech you ; perhaps she 
has repented, and left this man ; her relations 
have renounced and abandoned her ; there is no 
one to assist her even should she now be horri- 
fied at her fault ; this idea puts me in despair ; ' 
I would shed my blood to save her, to snatch her 
from that wretch.’ 

“ The physician looked at me with an air of 
commiseration, and said laconically : “Take my 
advice, and forget her ; why should her happi- 
ness or unhappiness concern you ? she has 
chosen her lot.’ 

My father did not question me, and I said 
nothing to him ; we tacitly avoided all allusion 
to the fatal project of alliance which had taken 


Where shall He find Herf 153 

me to the Baron’s home, and everything con- 
cerning my sojourn at the Chateau of Malepire. 

“ Once, however, my father broke this silence. 
It was near the end of ’92, and we had just ar- 
rived at Ostend. There was then in that town 
a large number of emigrants, who were prepar- 
ing, like myself, to pass over to England ; but I 
did not wish to meet them, and, whilst my father 
went to look up some old friends, I remained 
alone at the inn. I remember night was ap- 
proaching, and that, seized with an inexpressible 
melancholy, I looked through the window of my 
room at the snow which was falling silently, and 
accumulating on the roofs of the neighboring 
houses whose high gables formed great black 
indentations on the sky of pale gray. My father 
entered, with a sorrowful countenance, and 
seated himself near the fire without speaking. 
I approached him anxiously. At that time one 
lived in continual apprehension, and formed 
conjedtures which the event always exceeded. 

‘Are there any news from France?’ I asked 
tremblingly. 


154 


Where shall He find Herf 


“ My father made a negative gesture, and said 
to me in a changed voice : ‘ I have just learned 
the death of one of my old friends. You knew 
him, my son ; and, though your relations termina- 
ted in grievous circumstances, I think you will 
be afflicted by this event’ 

“ ‘ The Baron of Malepire is dead ! ’ I cried. 

“ ‘ He had a sudden loss of property a short 
time ago, and for some months he has lived here 
in a state of destitution.’ 

“'And the Baroness.?’ I asked: 'have you 
seen her .? ’ 

“He shook his head like one heartbroken. 

“ ‘ Dead also ? ’ I cried. 

“ ‘ She succumbed much sooner : it was grief 
that killed her,’ said my father in a hollow voice. 
‘The Baron had no one with him during his 
last moments, no one but a poor girl who had 
been his wife’s maid, and who latterly had been 
obliged to work to keep them alive. I sought 
her when I heard this, hoping that I could give 
her some assistance ; but she had gone back to 
France.’ 


Where shall He find Her f 155 

Then followed a long silence. At last I said 
to my father : 

“^M’lle de Malepire, — do they know what has 
become of her ? ’ 

“ He hesitated a moment ; then he said, with a 
profound accent, ‘ The family of Malepire is ex- 
tindl now.’ 

“ Since that day I have not pronounced the 
name of Marie de Malepire ; my father must have 
thought I had forgotten her. Meanwhile this 
souvenir has lived in me throughout all the years 
of my youth ; and, though I hardly dare say it, in 
my riper years it has been an obstacle to other 
engagements. To-day, even, it was not without 
a pang that I found myself opposite this portrait. 
Yes : at that sight my old heart trembled as in 
‘ the days that are no more.’ Alas ! it is the 
most beautiful and the most lamentable page in 
my life which has been reopened before me.” 


156 


Where shall He find Herf 


CHAPTER VI. 

The Marquis leaned his elbow on the table, sigh- 
ing, and poured himself a glass of Spanish wine, 
which he drank at a single draught. 

Really, you were very unfortunate in your 
first inclination,” cried Dom Gerusac, who had 
listened to all this metaphysical love in a state 
of mystification. 

As for myself, my heart was inflated with a 
jealous indignation. I did not take my eyes off 
the portrait ; and, when the Marquis had ceased 
speaking, I murmured with despiteful rage : 

This ‘ abbat,’ whom she loved so much, 
must now be a frightfully wrinkled and crooked 
old peasant. Pd like to see him now.” 

During M. de Champaubert’s recital, Babelou 
had two or three times partly opened the door. 
When he had concluded, she glided behind my 
uncle’s chair, and spoke to him in a low voice. 


Where shall He find Her? 157 

It was to tell him that the cur6 had come to 
ask a night’s lodging, as he had frequently done 
before. 

“ Tell him he is very welcome,” cried Dom 
G^rusac rising : “ where is he, pray } ” 

“In the kitchen,” replied Babelou ; “ he is dry- 
ing his cassock, which is drenched, for it is rain- 
ing hard.” 

And the rain did rattle against the windows, 
and the temperature was sensibly colder than it 
had been. 

“ Make a wood-fire on the hearth ; we are all 
shivering,” replied Dom G^rusac ; “ then you 
will make us some more coffee, and remember 
that the cure likes it very hot. My dear Maxi- 
mian,” he added, turning to Champaubert, “ you 
will let me introduce you to the Abb^ Lambert, 
— a most worthy man, who has officiated for fif- 
teen years as the curate of Malepire.” 

“I will see him with pleasure,” replied the 
Marquis quickly ; and, whilst my uncle went 
to receive his new guest, he added, addressing 


me : 


158 Where shall He find Herf 

“ The cur^ cannot be entirely ignorant as to 
the manner in which the Malepires have disap- 
peared from the world ; he must have heard the 
misfortunes of their house spoken of ; have you 
never questioned him ? ” 

“ Frequently, my lord,” I replied, coloring ; 
“ but he appeared to know nothing on the sub- 
jedl ; perhaps it was charitably done to put in 
oblivion the dishonor of M’lle de Malepire.” 

The Abbd Lambert entered, condudled by my 
uncle. His old cassock was still very damp, and 
the tracks which his coarse shoes left on the floor 
testified to the length of the journey which he 
had just made on foot, over roads covered with 
clayish mud ; but he was not disconcerted in the 
least by his poor costume, and it was without 
either embarrassment or boldness that he saluted 
the grand personage seated at our hearth. The 
latter overwhelmed the poor country curate with 
the attentions which he might have bestowed 
upon a prince. He gave him a seat beside him- 
self ; and with his own hands stirred the logs, 
that he might better dry his threadbare cassock. 


Where shall He find Her? 


159 


“ My dear pastor, I thank Heaven, who has 
scattered your flock as far as this valley,” said 
Dom Gerusac jocosely : “we should not have had 
the pleasure of your society this evening, had 
you not come this way for some one of your 
sheep.” 

“ That is true,” replied he with an expression 
of sadness which struck me. “ I was called for 
something concerning my ministry. The case 
was pressing, and there was danger of my arriv- 
ing too late. It is a long distance from Malepire 
here, and in stormy weather one meets at every 
step torrents which make the roads almost im- 
passable. 

When the Abbe Lambert had dried his clothes 
and taken a cup of coffee, the Marquis com- 
menced to interrogate as to how long he had 
been in that part of the country, and on the son- 
venirs which he colledled concerning the ancient 
lords. One would have said that the Abbe Lam- 
bert penetrated the interest which characterized 
M. de Champaubert’s investigations ; for he went 
somewhat beyond his direCt questions, and re- 


i6o Where shall He find Her? 

plied, with sad gravity, When first I came here, 
nearly sixteen years ago, the family of Malepire 
was almost forgotten ; the people had even ceased 
to speak of the deplorable event which tainted 
the honor of that house.” 

“ Still you were acquainted with the fa6l,” 
cried the Marquis. “ You have heard of the 
only daughter of the Baron of Malepire, — of 
M’lle de Malepire.” 

The good priest raised his eyes and his hands 
to heaven ; “ May God have mercy on her you 
have just named ! ” said he in a fervent tone. 
“ Pardon her also for the outrage of which she 
was guilty towards you : she has expiated it by 
great sufferings.” 

“You know her.? you know where she ended 
her miserable life .? ” interrupted the Marquis in 
an agitated manner. 

“It is a sad history,” murmured the Abb6 
Lambert shaking his head, as if he suddenly hes- 
itated to recall this remembrance ; but the Mar- 
quis insisted, and then he said, “ I little thought 
I should relate here, and in such company, the 


Where shall He find Herf i6i 

life of that sinful girl. God, whose wisdom is 
infinite, has brought about this meeting.” 

And, after having colledled himself an instant, 
he went on : “At the time when M’lle de Male- 
pire fled from her father’s castle, I served the 

curacy of St. C , a little village of the lower 

Provence, in the diocese of Aix. It was in that 
place that the family of Francois Pinatel lived ; 
he whom they surnamed the ^ abbat,’ because, in 
all the patronal fetes, he was the chief of the 
youth. These Pinatels were peasants of old 
stock, who cultivated a small farm which they 
had inherited from father to son for two or three 
hundred years. The mother, a worthy woman 
and a good housekeeper, hard-working, greedy 
of gain, governed the house. She had already 
married her eldest son, and lived peaceably with 
her daughter-in-law, who had brought as dower 
a piece of land worth a thousand crowns. One 
day the good woman brought me a letter ad- 
dressed to herself No one at her house knew a 
single letter of the alphabet, and she came to ask 
me to read it to her. This letter announced to 


1 62 Where shall He fi^id Her? 

her that her second son, Frangois Pinatel, had 
married M’lle de Malepire. 

‘‘She became his wife,” cried the Marquis 
indignantly. “ This was the reason that the Bar- 
oness said to me that she wept her daughter as 
one dead.” Then he continued : “ Go on, I pray 
you, M. Curd.” 

“Yes: it was even so,” replied the cure with 
a sigh. “ And pity ’tis 'twas so, for her happiness 
as well as for that of the young man. The mar- 
riage had taken place with the written consent 
of the Baron, notwithstanding the absence of 
other formalities. It had been hastily done to 
prevent scandal, or rather to stop it. The newly 
married couple had set out immediately for St. 
C . 

“The widow Pinatel was in nowise dazzled 
by this alliance. With her blunt good sense, and 
her peasant shrewdness, she divined immediately 
under what circumstances her son had been able 
to obtain the hand of a ‘ noble ’ girl and a rich 
heiress ; and she fully appreciated the probable 
consequences of this union. She begged me to 


Where shall He fi^td Her? 163 

read her the letter a second time ; then she said 
to me with a thoughtful air, ‘ All that glitters is 
not gold. It is clear that the parents have not 
willingly given their consent, and that they 
never wish to see their daughter again, since 
her husband brings her to me. There is no 
talk of giving her a dower, as far as I can see ; 
and all these submissions will not perhaps pre- 
vent her from being disinherited. At any rate, 
it is a marriage which does not suit us. What are 
we to do at the house with this fine lady .? She 
need not suppose that we are all there to wait 
on her ; and, then, what a figure she will cut 
among us with her fashionable dresses ! The 
villagers will make fun of her, and I shall not 
even dare to send her to the fountain. What 
else is that they say in the letter } — that she is 
an extraordinary beauty ? It must have been a 
wise man that wrote that passage, for I don’t 
quite understand it.’ 

“ The schoolmaster to whom Frangois Pinatel 
had applied to write this letter had a smattering 
of profane authors, and this poor pedant com- 


164 Where shall He find Herf 

pared M’lle de Malepire to Venus. This figura- 
tive expression so alarmed the widow Pinatel, 
that I had some trouble to make her understand 
that it “Was merely his. way of speaking. ‘No 
matter/ cried she, in a corollary manner : ‘ the 
eldest will not be satisfied with his brother’s 
marriage. He will find fault because he did not 
ask my consent.’ 

“ Evidently this last grief was the most consi- 
derable in her eyes. She regarded it as an un- 
pardonable offense, and one must admit that in 
point of human propriety her susceptibility was 
just and natural. I tried my best to make her 
regard her son’s marriage in another light, and 
to awaken in her heart the Christian sentiments 
which command her to love the stranger which 
Providence sent into her family ; but this 
woman, though good according to thb world’s 
standard, had no one of the natural virtues of 
religion, and my words did not touch her. 

“ In the meantime, I was called by my lord of 
Aix to a work commenced the preceding year, 
and which his highness wished me to finish un- 


t65 


Where shall He find Herf 

der his diredl supervision. My absence lasted 
two months, and it was near the feasts of Christ- 
mas when I returned to my parish. I arrived 
about dusk, having gone a part of the way on foot ; 
and, as a drizzling rain had commenced falling, I 
directed my steps towards the Pinatels’ house, 
which stood on the edge of the road, at a quarter 
of a mile from the village. This lodge was a great 
building whose walls had never Jpeen plastered, 
and which, properly speaking, had neither front 
or side. The windows were cut hap-hazard, and 
had neither panes or shutters ; and the entrance 
door faced a sort of court cluttered with rubbish 
and heaps of brushwood and logs of firewood. 
Not a tree was there before the house, not a 
square of garden anywhere to be seen. In sum- 
mer a scorching sun blistered the roof, and trans- 
formed tke interior of the house into a furnace ; 
and in winter the freezing northwest wind whis- 
tled freely between the old rotten planks. It 
was very dark, and I crossed the court sounding 
the ground with my stick, when I heard some 
one before me who cried: ‘Frangois, ’tis you at 


1 66 Where shall He find Herf 

last.’ I approached, announcing myself, when 
the person who had spoken turned abruptly to- 
wards the house, and disappeared in the obscu- 
rity without making any reply. I pushed the 
door, which was partly open ; and, after having 
crossed the stable, I entered the room where the 
family was usually to be found. It was quite a 
large room, but so dark and smoky that I could 
not at first be recognized. The bed of the nfother 
Pinatel was in one corner of the room hidden 
under curtains of yellow serge. A great wardrobe 
of nutwood, which was always locked, stood oppo- 
site two or three shelves where were some dishes 
and cooking utensils. The pewter plates won 
by the abbat decorated the wall, where hung 
also a portion of the provisions for housekeep- 
ing. 

“ J ust then all the family were seated around 
the table, on which there was a large dish of corn 
which they were picking with great care, to take 
out the blighted grains which spoil the bread. 
The operation was being accomplished by the 
light of a lamp, and they applied themselves dili- 


Where shall He find Herf 167 

gently to this work like so many ants ; when- 1 
appeared, the widow jumped up crying : 

' Excuse me, M. Cur^ : you have crossed the 
stable without a light. It was because the door 
was open.’ 

“'There was some one in the court, — ^your 
new daughter-in-law ; . I think she was expedling 
her husband.’ 

“ The mother Pinatel shrugged her shoulders, 
and the eldest son said, between his teeth : 

“ ' In that case she will pass the night outside.’ 

“ ' Is Francois oh the mountain I asked, think- 
ing that perhaps he had returned to Malepire, 
where great depredations had been committed 
after the Baron’s departure. It was even said 
that the peasants pillaged the castle, and burned 
part of the battlements. 

“ ‘ What would he be doing up there ? ’ replied 
the widow Pinatel. 'He has taken a different 
road. ' What do you want M. Curd ? He is a 
boy who dbes not willingly stay at home. He 
has gone to amuse himself a little at the fair at 
Apt.’ 


1 68 Where shall He find Her? 

“ I placed myself in the seat of honor, under the 
chimney-piece ; there was a small fire there, 
produced by two sticks which burned end to end ; 
and, although it was past the supper-hour, an 
enormous kettle still boiled in the cinders. The 
politeness of Provencial peasants consists ia tak- 
ing all the brunt of the conversation, so that their 
guest never has the trouble of answering them. 

“The eldest son resumed the conversation, and 
commenced to discourse on the drought which 
had interfered with the crops, and of the extra- 
ordinary size of two fat hogs which he had sold 
at the last fair of St. C . Whilst he was giv- 

ing the most minute details on that subject, his 
young sister-in-law noiselessly entered the room, 
and seated herself on the other side of the fire- 
place. She was soaked by the rain, and shiv- 
ering with cold. 

“ ‘ Daughter-in-law, never do you leave the door 
open again when you go out in the evening,’ 
said the widow Pinatel sourly. 

“ ‘ How shall I see to come in, if I shut it be- 
hind me ^ ’ she replied irritably.’ 


Where shall He find Her? 


169 


“ They paid no attention to her ; the eldest son 
continued to talk of his crops, and of the sale of 
his hogs. The other brothers Pinatel spoke 
in their turn, and began a discussion between 
themselves on the size and weight of the two 
animals. During this colloquy, I looked at the 
young wife with curiosity and compassion. She 
was dressed, like the mother Pinatel, in a skirt 
of brown stuff ; and a muslin cap covered her hair 
completely. The whiteness of her complexion 
was so great and so equal, that one would have 
said that her face was marble. She stirred the 
fire whilst shivering in her damp clothes, and 
drooping her head as if she was afraid I would 
speak to her. Seeing this, I said nothing to her, 
and even avoided looking at her ; but I threw in 
the fire several logs which I found near me, and 
pushed the boiling pot a little aside that she 
might better warm her feet. When she had 
warmed herself, she crossed her arms and leaned 
against the wall, and closed her eyes like one 
who sleeps, overcome with fatigue. The rain 
continued to fall, and I staid quite late in the 


I/O Where shall He find Herf 

evening. During all this time,- the young wife 
did not once move, nor did she once open her 
eyes. As I was about to leave, thinking that 
the rain would last all night, a shuffling was 
heard in the court, and the house-dog ran to the 
door wagging his tail. 

“^’Tis he,’ cried the young wife, starting up, 
and precipitating herself before her husband. 

“ The others remained seated at the table, and 
the mother-in-law murmured, casting a glance 
at the place which her daughter-in-law had just 
left : 

“ ‘ All V-ery well, if she has kept the soup 
warm.’ 

An instant after, the abbat entered, and said 
with a jovial air, as he threw his stick and his 
coarse mantle of serge in the corner : 

“ ‘ Good evening to all ; Monsieur le Curd, how 
do you do } And you, mother ; does everything 
go well with you } ’ 

“ ^ We must always say yes,’ replied she ; * and 
you, my son, how are you ? ’ 

Not so bad that I shall not soon be better,’ 


Where shall He find Herf 171 

exclaimed he, with a coarse laugh, as he passed 
his hand across his stomach. 

“‘You have had no supper,’' cried the widow 
Pinatel ; ‘ then put yourself there.’ 

“ She bustled about to prepare a place for her 
son at the table, and added, turning towards the 
young wife : 

“ ‘ Daughter-in-law, serve your husband.’ 

“ The latter obeyed, and went to get a large loaf 
of brown bread, which she put before the abbat 
with a porringer full of vegetable soup. Unfor- 
tunately this soup was cold, which fa6t put the 
abbat in a bad humor and the mother Pinatel 
in a rage. 

“ ‘ J esus Dieu ! what were you doing there } ’ 
said she to the young wife. ‘It is enough to 
make any one laugh to see a person of your age 
who does not even know how to boil the pot 
over the fire ; fortunately every one in the house 
is not like you,’ she added, after having looked 
affedlionately at the daughter-in-law of her 
choice ; ‘ whenever my eldest son comes home, 
he always finds his wife at work, and something 


172 Where shall He find Her? 

cooking for his supper in the chimney corner. 
Take pattern by your sister-in-law if you want 
to be a good housekeeper.’ 

“ ‘ If Frangois does not complain, you have no 
occasion to scold me,’ she replied arrogantly. 

“ I hastened to interfere, and to declare that it 
was my fault only if the abbat eat his soup cold, 
as I had taken upon myself to move the vessel 
in which the soup had been warming. 

‘ Frangois will excuse me,’ I added ; ^ another 
time I will be more thoughtful.’ 

“ * Certainly there is no need of any one being 
angry about it,’ said he then to the two women. 
‘ The soup is not bad, by any means ; let us say 
no more about it. Do you know that the fair 
did not succeed as well as usual . There were 
neither merchants nor buyers, nor any one who 
had six francs in their pockets. A good deal of 
snow has fallen on the Tuberon ; and I was 
obliged to return by the roads, where even the 
dogs would not pass ; I was up to my ankles in 
mud, and my feet are like icicles.’ 

“ ' Put some hot ashes in your shoes quickly,’ 


173 


Where shall He find Herf 

interrupted the mother Pinatel, with much soli- 
citude. ‘ There is nothing like it for driving out 
cold.’ 

“ ‘ Here, wife,’ said the abbat, taking off his 
great iron-nailed shoes, the leather of which had 
entirely disappeared under a coat of congealed 
mud, ‘ here, fix those for me.’ 

“ She wiped olf the mud, without uttering a 
word, put into the shoes a shovelful of embers, 
and took them back tb her husband. 

On seeing her so degraded and so cruelly pun- 
ished for her fault, I thought she would certainly 
throw herself into the arms of religion, which 
alone could sustain and fortify her in the long 
trials which awaited her, and went on convincing 
myself that hers was a soul won over to God. 
However, on Sunday she did not appear in 
church ; and on Christmas she did not fulfil her 
religious duties. Although the Pinatels were 
certainly not fervent Christians, the women regu- 
larly attended the church services. I asked the 
widow Pinatel why I did not see her daughter-in- 
law with her, and what she was doing at home. 


1/4 Where shall He find Her? 

“ * Nothing, as usual,’ was the woman’s answer. 
‘ She is in the chimney corner with her arms 
crossed, her feet in the ashes ; and, if her dress 
took fire, I believe, God forgive me ! she would 
not raise her hand to put it out.’ 

“ It was my custom to visit the families of my 
parish once or twice a month, according to their 
need of spiritual help ; and, unless in extraordi- 
nary cases, I did not depart from this rule. I 
therefore waited fifteen days before returning to 
the Pinatels’. This time I found the young wife 
alone. She was seated in the sun before the 
door, with her peasant’s hat drooped over her 
eyes, so that she did not perceive my approach 
until I was within two or three steps of her. It 
seemed to me that my presence was not alto- 
gether an agreeable surprise ; she arose abruptly, 
and said in Provencial ; 

“ ' There is no one in the house ; they have all 
been in the fields since morning.’ 

“ ‘ If it does not incommode you, I will rest 
here a few minutes,’ I replied in French. 

Apparently she had supposed that I did not 


Where shall He find Her? 


175 


know her origin ; for she blushed slightly, and 
seemed astonished that I did not speak to her in 
Provencial as to the Pinatel family ; nevertheless 
she soon recovered her assurance, and also 
answered me in French, with an air and accent 
suited to her mother’s drawing-room. 

“ ‘ Will you do me the honor, sir, to enter the 
house } ’ 

“ I thanked her, and we remained outside seated 
on a bench against the wall. The weather was 
admirably serene. The sparrows hopped joyously 
in the brushwood, and the little white queen- 
margarets commenced to open along the hedge. 

“ ‘ What a beautiful day ! ’ said I to the young 
wife : ‘ this clear and brilliant sun is like a 
glance of love from God to his creatures here 
below ; the most afflidfed soul can rise, and con- 
sole itself under the beneficence which rejoices 
all nature and life universally. Let us return 
thanks to God : praised be the Lord all power- 
ful, who watches over us ! ’ 

“ She made no reply, but looked at me with 
an air of hostility and scoffing, which irreligious 


iy6 


Where shall He find Herf 


persons always affe6l towards the people of my 
calling who try to awaken in their souls faith 
and the recognition of the love of God. I have 
more than once experienced these marks of a 
disdainful aversion ; but it was from men ani- 
mated by philosophical intolerance, or else I 
have been exposed to the sarcasms of those 
braggarts of infidelity who glory in insulting 
those of my cloth. The malevolence of this 
young woman caused me painful astonishment. 
I nevertheless continued to discourse to her on 
the grandeur of religion, and the infinite conso- 
lations arising from the pra6lice of Christian 
virtues. My words had not the efiedl which I 
had hoped. On the contrary, they awoke in her 
mind ideas of which I had not suspedted her ; 
and she commenced to argue and to dogmatize 
vehemently, exposing her dodtrines, and trying 
to refute the principles and the creed taught 
by holy books. I was confounded to find, in so 
young a person, opinions so audacious and so 
vain, — so much of opinionativeness in doubt, and 
of passion in incredulity. Hers was an intelledl 


Where shall He find Her? 177 

superbly logical, which was easily worked up ; and , 
her heart was sterile, and nothing could touch it. 
She was deficient in what the world calls sensi- 
bility and tenderness ; but she had, in return, an 
ardent imagination filled with a false enthusiasm. 

I could understand, as I listened to her, by what 
errors she had been seduced, and by what allure- 
ments. she had been dragged as low as I now 
saw her. I was young, then, and had not yet 
sounded all the abysses which surround and shut 
in the human conscience ; and I was so frightened 
at the state of this poor soul, that 1 commenced 
praying fervently for her, and asking the Lord 
to dispel, by a miracle of his grace, so much 
misery and pride. As I was silent in imploring 
the divine mercy from the depths of my heart, 
the young woman thought that she had humili- 
ated and reduced me to silence. 

“ ‘ The discussion is closed,’ said she to me 
almost gayly : ‘ let us speak of something else.’ 

“ I could have given her some useful counsels 
touching her position ; and I did not hesitate to 

say to her how she should a6t that she might ren- 
12 


1/8 Where shall He find Her? 

der more easy and more pleasing her intercourse 
with her new relatives ; but she would not let me 
finish. 

“ ‘ I do not know how to employ myself/ said 
she quietly to me. ^ These people hate me, and I 
confess the sentiments are reciprocated. Never- 
theless, we must mutually endure each other’s 
society until the day that the widow Pinatel 
can count to her son the sum which he is to get 
from the paternal inheritance, — thirty louis, not 
more; but with that we can take a little farm, 
which we will cultivate. My husband has already 
set about it, and has found something which will 
suit us exadlly ; a property the owners of which 
have emigrated, and may not return in a long time. 
Unfortunately we must wait until next St. Michel, 
nearly another year ; but I will have patience.’ 

“The execution of this project seemed to me 
difficult, and I ventured several observations. 

“ ^ You are not accustomed to work,’ said I to 
the young woman ; ‘ however great may be your 
courage and willingness, you will find it difficult 
to lead a life so laborious and rude. Besides 


Where shall He find Herf 179 

your husband cannot second you as well as you 
think perhaps. He has never worked hard, nor 
tilled the earth like his brothers. ' Emphatically 
speaking, he is lazy,’ she interrupted unmoved. 
^ I know him to have that vice, and others also : 
he is a drunkard and a gambler. His mother 
is to blame for it : she has allowed him, since 
early youth, to go to market-places and fairs, 
where he associates only with horse-jockeys and 
gypsies, all vicious and debauched men. Even 
now she authorizes his frequent absence, and 
assists him in finding pretexts for keeping away 
from me. When we are alone in our own home 
he cannot so leave me. I shall well know how to 
keep him at home ; he will no longer frpquent 
the alehouse ; he will lead the laborious and 
tranquil life to which man is destined on- this 
earth ; he will fulfil at last his duties as head of 
his family and a good citizen.’ 

“ Christian charity kept me silent ; but whoever 
knew Francois Pinatel knew also that he would 
never earn his living by tilling the earth, and 
that he was only capable of that exercise which 


i8o Where shall He find Herf 

displayed his muscular force. He wanted also 
those qualities so essential to a peasant, — such as 
patience, a determination and sagacity somewhat 
defiant, and above all the spirit of economy. He 
was a man of limited ideas, of an easy and jovial 
disposition, but easily tempted, and one who did 
everything by impulse. His mother, whose 
favorite child he was, had well judged him ; and 
she had been careful not to let him have his lit- 
tle part of the inheritance ; and, whenever this 
favorite child returned home, he always found his 
piece of bread and his porringer of soup ready 
for him. I tried vainly to make the young wife 
understand the sort of tutelage of which her 
husband had need, and which she was incapa- 
ble of exercising. I advised her to undertake 
nothing without the advice of her mother-in-law ; 
and I went away grieved that I had not been 
able to enlighten her on the perilous condition 
of her immortal soul, nor even on that which 
concerned her temporal interests. 

“ Several days after, I left St. C ; my 

lord of Aix had designated me for other func-. 


Where shall He find Her? i8i 

tions, and Providence remitted to another pas- 
tor my spiritual family. It was about the com- 
mencement of the sinister days of the Revolution. 
The Church was divided by schism, and a perse- 
cution commenced against those who refused to 
adhere to the civil constitution of the clergy. 
For several months I surveyed the diocese with 
the mission of raising the courage of the feeble, 
and enlightening the irresolute. I finished my 

tour, and found myself at S . It was then 

the latter part of September, and nearly a year 

since I had left my parish. S is a large 

market-town, only two miles from St. C . 

I arrived the evening before the fair, which is 
one of the most considerable in the country, 
and where there is always a great influx. There 
is at the same time an audlion, and a fete which 
lasts three days. The subjedls for temptation 
and perdition are not wanting in such assem- 
blies. They play and bet largely here, and the 
men who dupe them are the first to abandon 
them. On the morning of the next day, as I was 
going from the curial house, I met the abbat. 


82 


Where shall He find Herf 


He was dressed in new clothes, and walked along 
with an air of importance towards the field where 
the fair was held. I stopped him to ask how his 
family were. 

“ ‘ They were all well when I left home,’ re- 
plied he ; ‘ my mother is always the same, — as 
straight as a lance, and as brisk as a girl of 
fifteen. My wife is not poorly either ; but she 
is getting thin.’ 

“ ‘ Did you come here alone } ’ I inquired. 

“ ‘ My eldest brother was to have come with 
me ; but he was prevented. I will tell you, M. 
Curd ; I have considerable business on my hands. 
I have decided to take a farm, — three hundred 
acres of land ; it will take a good many men to 
work such a piece of ground ; I have already 
hired an ox-driver, a shepherd, and a ploughboy ; 
now, I am going to buy a yoke of oxen, a horse, 
and a hundred sheep ; and then I must not for- 
get to put corn in the granary until the crops 
are harvested.’ 

“ ‘ All this will cost a great sum,’ said I'to him. 

“ He struck his leathern belt to make the 


Where shall He find Herf 183 

crowns which it contained ring, and answered 
me, as he lowered his voice : 

“ I have there seven hundred livres which my 
mother gave me just as I was setting out on 
my route.’ 

“ Here we separated. About an hour later, as 
I was crossing the green, I saw him enter a sort 
of eating-room, where met well-to-do farmers and 
rich jockeys, and nearly every one who came to 
the fair with money. I knew that gambling was 
done there, and even at great stakes ; but I did 
not suspedl that Francois Pinatel would try his 
fortune in such company, and I thought nothing 
of it, as he usually went with the young men ; and 
I supposed, that, having finished his business, he 
had gone with them to wrestle a little, or to 
shoot at a target. In the afternoon I went and 
read my breviary in the shade of the olive-trees 
which were hear the 'town, and the day was far 
advanced when I returned from my walk. At 
the corner of the green, I again met the abbat ; 
he was without a hat, which with a peasant is a 
sign of great disorder of mind ; and he walked 


184 


Where shall He find Herf 


Here and there without paying any attention to 
the passers whom he elbowed. On seeing me he 
came straight towards me, and said hurriedly : 

“ ‘ Monsieur Cure, could you lend me a six- 
franc piece } ’ 

“ ‘ I . have but one little crown, which is at your 
service,’ I replied ; ‘ but first tell me what has 
happened you ’ 

And, taking his arm, I drew him far from the 
crowd, in an out-of-the-way place, where no one 
could hear us. He allowed himself to be led like 
a child, and at first made no reply to the impor- 
tant questions which I asked him ; but, suddenly 
coming out of his stupor, he confessed, with 
frightful imprecation and transports of grief, 
that he had played, and lost evey cent which he 
possessed. 

“ It was no time to represent to him the enor- 
mity of his crime, and to excite him to repen- 
tance. I tried to calm his despair ; but his was a 
violent nature, incapable of reasoning, and which 
he himself only could calm. Each moment he 
repeated : ‘ My mother ! what will my mother 


Where shall He fiftd Her? 185 

say ? I had rather die than appear before her. 
I am not afraid of death ; it would be short 
work to throw myself head first into a well.’ 

“ I shuddered as I thought that he was capable 
of such a crime, and that, if left to himself, 
nothing would prevent him, neither the idea of 
God’s justice nor the fear^of eternal punishment. 
In the midst of these ravings he had moments 
of weakness, when he sat down, and, hiding his 
face in his hands, he cried and sobbed like a 
woman. I profited by one of these alternations 
to say to him, authoritatively : 

“ ‘ Listen, my dear Pinatel : you have but one 
course to pursue ; that is, to returr^ immediately 

to St. C , to throw yourself on your knees 

before your mother, and confess all to her.’ ’ 

^ No, no,’ cried he : ‘I will never return 
home ; I will go away where no one will ever 
hear of me again.’ 

“ ' Get up,’ I continued ; ‘ get up, and come ; I 
will accompany you.’ 

“ He refused more feebly, then, he yielded, and 
we went on our way. As we walked, I showed 


1 86 Where shall He find Herf 

how he had hitherto, failed in his duties to his 
God and his family, and told him by what con- 
du6l he could expiate his faults. He listened 
meekly ; but I had not, at that moment, the con- 
solation of hearing one word of true repentance 
from his mouth. However, his head grew calmer 
little by little, and hi^ natural carelessness and 
levity gained their sway. Before we were half 
way on our road, he recovered sufficient free- 
dom of mind to relate to me in detail the catas- 
trophy which he had just experienced. 

“ ‘ I must tell you the whole truth,’ said he with 
a sigh. ‘ I wanted a gold chain for my wife ; 
that was the^cause of it all. A gold chain does 
not cost less than three louis. My eldest brother 
gave one to his wife when they were married. I 
was sorry that I could not give the same to my 
wife as a present. For, that you should know 
the truth, I must tell you that it was my mother 
who would not hear reason on the subjedl. It is 
not because she favors the eldest ; God keep me 
from the thought ! but she has her ideas. Three 
women in a house are like three nuts in a sack. 


Where shall He find Herf 


187 


My brother’s wife is jealous of mine because they 
call her in the village the beautiful peasant. On 
the other side, my wife is mortified when she sees 
her sister-in-law decked out on Sunday in orna- 
ments and finery.’ 

“‘I do not believe your wife pays any attention 
to all that,’ interrupted I, in order to cut short 
this digression, which threatened to be lengthy. 

“ ' Yes indeed, yes indeed,’ replied he ; ‘so on 
my return I wanted to take her a gold chain ; and, 
all debts paid, I had jus’t enough money to buy 
the cattle and several sacks of corn. Then the 
idea came to me to risk six francs at play to 
try my luck. I entered coolly with the crown in 
my hand. I had resolved to lose only that. 
Nicholas Fidelier was banker. The louis d’or 
jingled before him. I played my six francs ; and, 
unfortunately, I won. Then I put down three 
louis at a time, and lost. The pair of oxen was 
yet untouched. I again drew three louis, and 
again I lost. The blood mounted to my head, 
and I said to myself my duck wopld turn. I ad- 
vanced six louis ; I lost. The pair of oxen had 


i88 


Where shall He fi^id Herf 


gone. Then I put a louis on the ranganelle to see. 
It was the banker’s card which came out ; I won. 

“ ‘ Some one behind me said that that would 
bring me luck, and that the banker’s luck had 
turned, because he had crossed his little finger 
with his thumb. This gave me good courage, 
and I played without counting. I lost again this 
time. There were seventeen louis left. I ought 
to have stopped. I had still a hundred crowns, 
with which I could buy the sheep and a little 
corn ; but the idea that I had hired the ox-dri- 
ver and the ploughboy prevented me. I played 
again, and lost all, even to my last farthing ; 
and, unfortunately, I had borrowed from Jean 
Paul, one of our neighbors, six francs; which I 
still owed him. You did well not to give me 
your crown : it would have gone like the rest. 

“ ‘ This morning, I met our black dog running 
after a hen. I might have known, from that, 
that I should have bad luck to-day.’ 

“ ^ I tried to corredl him and make him ashamed 
of this superstition, but he obstinately persisted 
in it and said with vivacity to me : 


189 


Where shall He find Herf 

“ ‘ It seems to me two years since I went to 
Malepire for the first time ; I would have done 
better to go back home again. Do you believe, 
as I came out of the house, I saw a raven pass 
not higher than the roof of our chicken-house } 
If my mother had known it she would not have 
let me go, poor woman ! It is’ not that I repent 
of what has happened, but I might have done 
better. You are a sensible and a worthy man, 
M. Cur^, and so I will open my heart to you. To 
tell the truth, a peasant who marries a lady takes 
to his home the “ seven capital sins ” in person. 

“ * How can you speak so I ’ cried I indignantly. 

“ ‘ I said seven : it is too many ; take off two 
or three,’ he replied phlegmatically. 

“ ‘ Silence, miserable man ! ’ said I then : * it 
was you who seduced the young girl ; it was 
you who caused her misfortunes.’ 

“ ‘ Not at all ; by no means,’ interrupted he. 
‘ As true as I shall die one day, I neither sought 
nor asked her. The first time I went to Male- 
pire for the feast of St. Lazare, two years ago, 
she took part in the games. After the wrestling 


90 


Where shall He find Herf 


there was a ball, and I danced with her. It 
was a great honor for me ; but in truth I should 
better have liked to be with some young men, 
friends of mine, who were eating together a 
hare-ragout. She spoke pleasantly to me. I 
replied as well as I knew how, as it was my 
duty to do ; and, when she left me, she said to me 
with a certain air some things which I did not 
expedt to hear. I stayed at Malepire because 
she wished it. It would take too long to tell 
you how she made appointments with me. Why, 
there was no harm in it : she was in the parterre, 
upon the terrace of the castle ; and I was below 
at the foot of a tree on the road to the village. 
We looked at each other in this manner from a 
distance, and spoke by signs. Sometimes I went 
at night under her window, and she threw me 
little ends of ribbon ; you see this was child’s 
play. Who would have thought that it would 
end in a marriage before the church } It was 
what she wanted, and she got her wish, thafbad 
head ! No matter ; patience ; perhaps some day 
her parents will pardon her.’ 


Where shall He find Herf 191 

“ We now approached St C ; and, when 

we were in sight of the house, the abbat slack- 
ened his pace, and commenced to repent having 
come. 

“ ‘ It is too much for me,’ said he ; ‘ I dare 
not go near my mother, and tell her what I have 
done ; I had rather die.’ 

“ ‘ Well, I will first go in alone,’ I replied, 
retaining him. ‘ I will prepare your family for 
the news of this deplorable event.’ 

“ ^ Yes, M. le Cure,’ said he to me with sudden 
decision : “ you will tell the thing to my mother 
.before every one. You see I only fear the first 
moment ; after that, I will come in ; pray my 
mother to excuse me, tell her that she must par- 
don me.’ 

“ ^ And your wife, your unfortunate wife } ’ I 
interrupted, in a tone of reproach. 

“ ^ Oh ! I know she will pardon me ! ’ ex- 
claimed he confidently. 

We went together as far as the door ; the 
abbat remained outside, and I entered, recom- 
mending him not to go far away. All the family 


192 


Where shall He find Her? 


were together for supper, and had taken their 
places around the table ; apparently my face ex- 
plained my trouble of mind, for the mother Pina- 
tel cried put, on seeing me : 

“ ‘ Great Heavens ! what has happened ? what 
have you come to tell me, M. le Cure ? ’ 

“ I begged her to calm herself, and to submit 
to all the decrees of divine Providence ; ‘ for I 
have indeed bad news for you.’ 

“ ‘ It is of Frangois that you speak ; all the 
others are here,’ said she, trembling in every 
limb. ‘ My child, my poor child ! ’ 

“The young wife had approached me in 
silence ; anxiety was painted on her countenance ; 
but she did not weep. 

“ ‘ My son, — -tell me what has become of my 
son,’ cried the mother Pinatel despairingly. 

“‘You shall see . him very soon,’ I replied; 
‘He is living and well, but a great misfortune 
has happened him.’ 

“ Whereupon, I told her what had happened ; 
and I explained to her vividly her son’s repen- 
tance, adding that it was the grief and shame 


Where shall He find Herf 193 

with which his heart was filled, that kept him 
from appearing in her presence. She listened 
without a word ; and then she said, raising her 
eyes to heaven : 

“ ‘ God be praised ! I thought a greater mis- 
fortune had happened him, that my poor child 
was dead ; let him come, I will not reproach 
him ; the money which he has lost was his own ; 
it is a pity that he made bad use of it, but no 
one has a right to find fault with him about 
it.’ 

“ The abbat had glided into the stable ; on 
hearing his mother speak thus, he came in, and 
threw himself on her neck, transported with 
gratitude. 

“ ‘ Come, my poor, dear child, do not fret,’ 
said she to him, with a little ostentation of ma- 
ternal love and of generosity. ‘ There will 
always be bread enough and to spare for you in 
the house. 

“ His brothers shook hands with him, and has- 
tened to arrange a place for him at the table ; 

his wife alone remained apart, and said nothing 
13 


194 Where shall He find Herf 

to him. She was seated in one corner of the 
room, with her head bent down, and her hands 
extended on her knees. He approached her, and 
commenced speaking in a low voice, as if to ap- 
pease her ; but she listened gloomily, without 
raising her head, or answering him a single word. 
He redoubled his entreaties, and made a gesture 
as if to force her gently to look at him. Then 
she burst forth : 

“ ‘ Leave me,’ she cried in a loud voice, rising 
in a fury ; ‘ you are a wretch unworthy of what I 
have done for you. Think you that I will eat 
the bread which your family give you as alms } 
No, no. Since you have not wished to go from 
here with me, I will go alone. I will leave you 
on the hearth where you were born, cowardly 
drone ! ’ 

“ She did not continue. The abbat raised his 
hand, and she fell back with a hollow moan. Then 
every one threw themselves between them ; the 
mother Pinatel ran to her son, and held his arms 
down against his body. I ran to the young wife, 
who stood straight back against the wall, staring 


Where shall He find Herf 195 

fixedly before her ; one of her cheeks was livid, 
and the other of a purple red. 

“ ^ He struck me,* she said, with a frightful ex- 
pression. 

“ Then, without listening to me, and without 
adding anything, or looking at any one, she left 
the room, and we heard her going up stairs, ut- 
tering imprecations. 

“^Henceforth, hold your tongue,’ cried the 
abbat after her. 

“ ' Let her alone now,’ said the mother Pinatel, 
forcing him to sit down. ‘ Don’t make yourself 
in the wrong. She insulted you, and you have 
punished her; let it end there. You must make 
up, and try to live happily together.’ 

“ ‘ We shall see about that,’ murmured he. ‘ Do 
you know, that, if you had spoken to me so, I 
should perhaps have been wanting in respedl to 
you who are my mother.’ 

“It was now quite late, and I had to return to 

S 7- the same evening. The eldest son wished 

to accompany me, saying that he had business 
to attend to at the fair on the morrow. Just as 


196 Where shall He find Herf 

we were setting out, the mother Pinatel had, as 
it were, a presentiment. She turned towards 
the abbat, and said uneasily : 

“ * You also had better go and sleep at S , 

your wife is so angry with you. If you speak tp 
her now, perhaps she will follow it up with some- 
thing worse than has already happened.’ 

“ ‘ Do you think I am afraid of her } ’ replied 
he almost savagely at the thought ; ‘ let me alone 
for that, mother ; she will not insult me a second 
time.’ 

“ We went , on our way ; the weather was calm, 
and the full moon lighted our path. Before we 
had proceeded far, I turned my eyes once again 
to the house, and offered a prayer to God for the 
rebellious soul which I had left there. Alas ! 
some strange foreboding filled my heart. 


Where shall He find Herf 


197 


CHAPTER VII. 

’At these words, the Abb^ Lambert sighed pro- 
foundly ; and, for the second time, he appeared 
to hesitate to continue this strange history. 

Continue, I beseech you,” said the Marquis 
to him, in a husky voice.’ 

“ Well, I will,” replied he : “ The next morn- 
ing, as I was going to church, I saw in the dis- 
tance on the high road, a person who was walking 
very rapidly from St. C . This man recog- 

nized me, and cried out as he passed : ‘ There 
has been a murder at the Pinatels : last night, 
the beautiful peasant killed her husband. I am 
• going to Aix, to tell the justice.’ 

On hearing these words, M. de Champaubert 
covered his face with both hands, and shud- 
dered. I trembled to the depths of my heart, 
and turned away my eyes as if the culprit her- 
self was before me. 


1 98 Where shall He find Herf 

“She certainly was a very wicked woman,” 
cried my uncle. 

“ I decided immediately,” continued the old 
priest, “ instead of going to church, to take the 

road to St. C . Before arriving there, I met 

a man who confirmed the frightful news which 
the messenger had given me. ‘ It was the beau- 
tiful peasant who did the deed ; there is no doubt 
of it,’ said he to me. ‘Yesterday evening she 
quarrelled with her husband ; however, they went 
to bed as usual, and all that night nothing was 
heard ; this morning, at daybreak, the eldest son’s 
wife got up to make the bread ; as she passed 
before their room, her foot slipped, and, looking 
down, she saw that it was because there was blood 
running from under the door ; then she cried out, 
and called for help. The two younger Pinatels 
were already out of bed to go to the vineyard ; 
they came up stairs immediately, and found their 
brother assassinated in his bed. F rom all appear- 
ances, he had been surprised in the midst of his 
first sleep, for he had not moved ; however, when 
I left he was still breathing, but they expedled 
every moment would be his last.’ 


Where shall He find Her? 199 

“ ‘ And the woman ? ’ I asked trembling. 

“ * They searched for her, but she was not to 
be found. She must have taken flight across 
the fields, for they found the house door open ; 
but she cannot escape ; all the people in the 
village are in pursuit of her, to avenge the abbat. 

“ I hastened my steps, tearfully, asking, pray- 
ing God that I might be in time to prepare 
this unfortunate man to appear before him. As 
I approached the house, I heard pitiful cries and 
sobs, and I thought all was over. The lower 
room was full of people who had come from the 
village. They told me that the abbat had not 
returned to conciousness, but that he still lived. 
I hastily mounted the rickety staircase, and 
entered a small apartment where the light of 
day penetrated through a dormer window only. 
All the family were there, assembled around the 
abbat, who was extended in the attitude of a 
sleeping man. A white cloth had been thrown 
entirely over the bed, and only permitted his 
face to be seen as it lay on the pillow. His 
mother leaned over him, and gazed at him with 


200 Where shall He find Herf 

inexpressible transports of grief, and from time 
to time spoke to .him as if she hoped that he 
might hear her. On perceiving me, she cried 
out : 

“‘Yesterday you saw him alive and well, and 
now he is dying. She cut his throat like a poor 
lamb, the she-wolf !’ 

“ ‘ I come to succor him,’ said I, with my heart 
full of faith. 

“ I went and knelt down at the other side of 
the bed ; it seemed to me that the abbat moved 
a little, and partly opened his eyes. The physi- 
cian arrived at that moment ; he raised the cloth 
a little ; and, after having assured himself that 
the pulse still beat, he leaned down to listen 
Jo the almost insensible respiration of the 
dying man ; then he came towards me shaking 
his head. 

“ ‘ Is there, then, no hope ? ’ I asked in a low 
voice. 

“ ‘ None,’ he replied. ‘ The unfortunate man 
has but a few minutes to live. Without the 
prodigious strength of his organization, all would 


Where shall He find Herf 201 

have been over ere now ; but life is slow to leave 
so young and vigorous a body.’ 

“ I approached the abbat nearer to seek his 
hand, when I perceived with horror that it was 
bathed in his blood. 

“ ‘ My son,, my dear son,’ said I to him, * if you 
wish God to pardon you, pray to him from your 
heart with me ; pray for your wife, and pardon 
her your death. You have but an instant ; but 
one instant can perhaps buy back all the faults 
of your life. Do you hear me, my dear son t Do 
you ask for pardon } ’ 

“ He answered me nothing, but I had the 
unspeakable consolation of feeling his hand press 
feebly in mine. Then his eyelids partly opened ; 
he looked at his mother ; and, a moment after, 
the immortal soul had left his body. 

“ The evening of the same day, as I was re- 
turning to S , I learned that the culprit had 

been arrested, and put in the prison of Aix. It 
was not in my power to administer to her the 
spiritual help which she now so greatly needed, 
because the civil authorities /did not permit 


202 Where shall He find Her? 

sworn priests to enter the cells. On the impos- 
sibility of conversing with her, I wrote her all 
that Christian charity suggested to me for her 
consolation and her welfare ; and I had the happi- 
ness to know that she received my letter. 

During this epoch of civil discord and troubles, 
human justice struck noiselessly great criminals. 
Thus it was that this wretched woman escaped 
a frightful notoriety. After having languished 
in prison more than a year, she was brought up 
before the tribunals which had succeeded the 
Parliamentary Courts, and was obscurely judged 
and condemned according to the new laws to be 
branded at the hands of the executioner, and 
then to be thrown into a house of seclusion for 
the remainder of her life. I was then no longer 
in Paris : the persecution had forced me to take 
refuge in the States of the’ Church, and I did not 
hear of her arrest and condemnation until long 
after it had occurred. 

“ On my return from the emigration, this af- 
fair was almost forgotten. They only said that 
the beautiful peasant, as they still called her, was 


203 


Where shall He find Her ? 

serving her time at Embrun, and that the mother 
Pinatel had died of grief because her daughter- 
in-law had not been sent to the scaffold. 

“And since that time have you heard no news 
of the unfortunate woman ? ” cried the Marquis. 

The Abbe Lambert hesitated a moment, as 
if some scruple had caused him to pause in the 
midst of his revelations. At last he replied 
briefly : 

“ Later I knew that she had gained her par- 
don, and had come out of prison. Her situation 
was still frightful, however. Misery and univer- 
sal reprobation was what she was to find in the 
world. Some one, who knew how she had expi- 
ated her crime, aided her in concealing what she 
had been, and procured for her the humble means 
of gaining an honest living.” 

“ I conjure you. Monsieur le Cur6, again to 
inform yourself of her whereabouts,” said M. de 
Champaubert, in- a voice filled with emotion. 
“ Then let me know of her situation. My inten- 
tion is, that henceforth she shall have a sure in- 
come, that her last days may be tranquil.” 


204 Where shall He find Her? 

The Abb^ Lambert bowed, and simply re- 
plied : 

“ I will try, Monsieur le Marquis.” 

“ Is it possible that for so long a time I have 
had before my eyes, without being aware of it, 
the heroine of so dark a history murmured Dom 
Gerusac, raising his eyes to the portrait. My 
dear Abb^, you would have done well to have 
informed me of it.” 

The latter raised his eyes in astonishment. 

“ That is M’lle de Malepire,” cried I : “ did you 
not recognize it } ” 

He shook his head, and replied sadly : 

“ No, indeed : when I first saw her, she no 
longer had that fresh and laughing expression of 
countenance. She did not resemble that por- 
trait.” 

There was a deep silence ; the logs crackled 
on the hearth, and threw a bright flame, which 
replaced the light of the candle, now nearly con- 
sumed. Outside, the rain had ceased, and the 
wind moaned mournfully through the casement. 
The Marquis rose when the clock struck the hour 


Where shall He find Her? 205 

of midnight. He was to go away early the next 
morning, and it was arranged that we were to 
accompany him as far as the high road ; before 
retiring he pressed the hand of Abbe Lambert, 
and, putting his purse on the chimney corner, 
said in a low voice : 

“ That is for your poor. Monsieur le Cur^ ; 
every year I will renew my offering:” 

I did not close my eyes that night, nor did 
the Marquis sleep any ; long after midnight I 
heard him pacing up and down his room. We 
were both thinking of that beautiful and lost 
creature, who had been his first love, and who 
thirty-five years after had taken captive my sim- 
ple heart. I was still desperately in love with 
her : her fatal destiny had given her a sombre 
prestige which exalted my imagination. Her 
very crime filled me with a strange sentiment of 
admiration and horror. I thought that the ab- 
bat deserved death a thousand times, for having 
raised his hand to her, and that she had avenged 
it with a resolution worthy of her race. The 
souvenir of this vile rival excited in me a tempest 


2 o 6 Where shall He find Herf 

of jealousy. Spite of his deplorable end, it was 
too much honor, in my estimation ; and willingly 
would I have paid, for his happiness, the same 
price as he did. These thoughts added fuel to 
the fever of my blood. I counted the hours, im- 
patient for the return of day. Ceaselessly the 
same phantom continued to pass before my closed 
eyes, now smiling, now mournful and in tears ; 
nevertheless, I was sleeping profoundly when 
Dom Gdrusac called me the next morning. 

The Marquis was all ready, and we set out. 
The rays of a soft autumn sun bathed the whole 
valley, its fresh vegetation no early frost had 
yet tinged with yellow. The robin redbreasts 
twittered in the long hawthorn hedges, and 
brilliant butterflies hovered around the flow- 
ering . rosemary ; but below this zone, where 
whisper the warm currents which come from 
the shores of the Mediterranean, rose crests 
of mountains already covered with a mantle of 
snow. 

Before arriving at the high road, the Marquis 
turned round once again to contemplate this 


Where shall He find Herf 207 

landscape. His glance rested on the two peaks, 
separated by a deep cavity, which overlooked 
the southerly slope ; and he murmured, with a 
sigh : “ That is the Pass of Malepire.” 

A moment after, we reached the high road, 
where the carriages were waiting. M. de Cham- 
paubert offered me his hand, and strongly assured 
me of his friendship ; then he turned to Dom 
G6rusac, and said tenderly to him : 

“ Now that we have again found each other, 
it costs me a great effort to leave you, my old 
friend.” 

“Yet we have been very sad,” murmured my 
good uncle, with a sigh : “ it was that confounded 
pastel that caused it.” 

The two friends embraced ; the ambassador 
mounted quickly into his berlin, and leaned for- 
ward as he waved us another adieu. A moment 
later and we were alone on the border of the road, 
following with our eyes the great white cloud of 
dust which was disappearing from our sight. 
Dom Gerusac’s first care on reaching the house 
was to call Babelou, and cause her to trans- 


2o8 


Where shall He find Herf 

port to the garret the obje6l of my idolatry ; 
then he said coolly to me : 

The sight of that abominable woman would 
have troubled my meals. When dining I should 
be constantly reminded of her adventures ; be- 
sides, this portrait is a veritable daub. I am 
sorry for Champaubert ; but the arm is very in- 
correctly drawn, and in the foreshortening of the 
little finger he has made a complete failure. Any- 
how, it is a pitiful picture, and I shall no longer 
allow it to disfigure my mantel.” 

I did not protest against this execution ; nor 
did I ask my uncle to give me the painting to 
which I attached so great a price, and which he 
valued so lightly. I was afraid of betraying my 
secret folly in manifesting my desire to possess 
it ; but I resolved to take possession of it slyly, 
and carry it away with me. There was no time 
to lose in effeCling this abduClion. The vacation 
was drawing to a close, and I should be obliged 
to set out in three days. The thing did not ap- 
pear to me as very difficult to accomplish. It 
was merely necessary for me to go up three pairs 


Where shall He find Her? 209 

of stairs to the garret, to take the portrait from 
its frame, and confide it to the care of some little 
peasant, who, for a trifle, would carry it for me as 
far as the place where I must go to take the dili- 
gence. Before looking up a confidant and an 
accomplice who would aid me in this enterprise, 
I said insidiously to Babelou : 

“ How did you manage, my poor little girl, to 
carry that great old portrait clear up to the gar- 
ret } ” 

“ I put it behind the door, with its face turned 
to the wall. I tell you what, I had hard work to 
find a place for it, there is such a lot of old rub- 
bish up there.” 

“ Does my uncle keep all these old things un- 
der lock and key } ” I asked, with an air of indif- 
ference. 

“ He thinks he does,” said she, shrugging her 
shoulders ; “ but as we have to go there every 
day, for one thing or another, the key is left 
hanging on a nail beside the door.” 

I went away satisfied with this information, 
and passed nearly the whole day outside, under 
14 


210 


Where shall He find Herf 


pretext of hunting, but in reality to find a boy 
in the neighborhood who would carry out my de- 
sign. I finally succeeded in finding a young lad ; 
and after having assured myself of his discretion, 
by means of a five -franc piece, I appointed a 
rendezvous for the same evening, between the 
hour of eleven and midnight, at the foot of the 
garden path. He was to come furnished with 
two osier hurdles, between which I thought to 
transport the dear image, which, henceforth, 
should never leave me. These arrangements 
completed, I entered the house to wait impa- 
tiently until the appointed hour. 

“It was already late ; daylight was rapidly 
deepening into twilight, and a melancholy silence 
reigned around me. On entering the house, no 
one was to be seen. The lamp was already 
burning in the little sitting-room, where the dogs 
were asleep on the sofas. I thought that my 
uncle was at work in his library with his head 
buried in folios, and that Babelou was busy in 
the kitchen. The occasion appeared to me alto- 
gether favorable ; I went lip the stairs with a 


Where shall He find Her f 211 

palpitating heart, and my head on fire, burning 
like a ravisher ready to seize his prey. I have 
already said that the garret was in the third 
story. As I reached the top of the staircase, I 
found myself face to face with Dom Gerusac, who, 
with his study-lamp in his hand, and his spec- 
tacles put back on his forehead, came out of a 
room fronting the staircase. He looked dismayed 
and afflidled. 

“ Poor Marian is very ill,” said he to me ; “ the 
Abbe Lambert has just administered to her the 
last sacrament ; she may die at any moment.” 

“ What a misfortune ! ” cried I, with real des- 
pair. Marian’s room was next to the garret ; the 
two doors adjoined each other ; and I had no 
chance of executing my projedl without being 
perceived by those who surrounded the dying 
woman. My good uncle, seeing me so com- 
pletely overcome, passed my arm through his, 
and forced me to go back again down stairs. 
We found Babelou weeping at the foot of the 
stairs. 

“ The poor woman worked too hard,” said she 


212 Where shall He fi7id Herf 

to us : “ she ought to have been in her bed yes- 
terday, but she had rather have died at the fire 
than leave before the dinner was cooked and 
ready to send in. Still she knew her danger. 
While I was waiting on the table, she said to 
the turnspit, who stood beside her, ‘ Go quickly, 
and get M. le Cur^ ; ’ and that was what brought 
him here at nine o’clock last night, in the pour- 
ing rain ; this morning she was better, however. 
To please her I took her the money which M. le 
Marquis gave me, two beautiful pieces worth 
forty francs, and I gave her one of them. She 
told me that she hardly felt sick at all ; but that 
did not last, and now she is going to die.” 

We entered the sitting-room : a half-hour later 
the Abbe Lambert came to tell us that all was 
over. 

The almost sudden death of Marian was one 
of those domestic events which, for a time, dis- 
organizes a bachelor’s household arrangements. 
My poor uncle was in great consternation, and 
kept continually saying : 

“ She was a very worthy girl ; during the 


Where shall He find Her? 213 

whole ten or twelve years that she has been in 
my service, she has not once given me cause to 
find fault with her. I shall not easily replace 
her.” 

As to myself, I calculated the time when 
they should take away the corpse, and the time 
which I had before me to carry off M’lle de 
Malepire. 

“ Who is this poor girl’s heir } ” said my uncle 
suddenly. “ I hold her wages for a year ; she 
was very economical ; all that belongs to her 
parents, if she has any living ; we must inquire.” 

The Abbd Lambert shook his head ; he was 
seated before the table, and occupied in register- 
ing the certificate of death. When he had fin- 
ished, he put the paper under Dom Gdrusac’s eyes 
without saying anything, who threw himself back 
as though stunned, as he looked at the mantel- 
piece. I mechanically drew near, and read over 
his shoulder : 

“To-day, 12th October, 18 — , is deceased, at St. Pierre 
de Corbie, Madeleine Marie de Malepire, widow of Fran- 
9ois Pinatel, etc.” 


214 Where shall He find Herf 

“ Oh ! Marian ! ’twas she ! ” cried I, with hor- 
ror. The Abbe Lambert and my uncle leaned 
against the table, with their hands joined ; I 
thought they prayed ; Babelou was sobbing be- 
hind the door. I remained seated in the chim- 
ney corner, with my head bowed in my hands ; 
and I remained there all the evening, confound- 
ed, humiliated. Towards midnight, I went to 
my room ; an instant after I heard, under the 
window, some one calling me in a low voice ; I 
partly opened the casement ; it was my confi- 
dant, who, impatient of waiting so long and fruit- 
lessly at the end of the walk, had come to re- 
mind me that he was there. 

'^Well, Mr. Frederic,” said he, raising himself 
on the tips of his toes, “ I have come to get it, 
the pi6ture ; couldn’t you let it down, out of the 
window t ” 

“ Get out of my sight,” replied I, with an im- 
precation. “ I haven’t it, and I don’t want it.” 

Fifteen years later, after the death of Dom 
G6rusac, who had instituted me his sole heir, I 


Where shall He find Herf 215 

went back, and found M’lle de Malepire still in 
the same place, behind the garret door. The 
mice had nibbled the canvas somewhat ; and the 
little finger, which had so shocked my good un- 
cle, had disappeared. I had the pretty pastel 
renewed, and to-day it figures honorably in my 
colle6tion of portraits. 


THE END. 


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